The Wolverine
by MagMaggaM
Summary: "When it starts, whatever the reason is that you're doing this, focus on that. Maybe it'll help." / "Trust me, I've been through worse." / "No, you haven't." After his 3rd year, Harry slowly realises he's odder than he first thought. Well, to hell with it, he wasn't exactly normal in the first place. *Slow updates.* Reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Chapter 1

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

" _When it starts, whatever the reason is that_

 _you're doing this, focus on that. Maybe it'll help."_

" _Trust me, I've been through worse."_

" _No, you haven't."_

 _Summer 1994_

It was evening in Privet Drive, the uniform houses lay in the darkness, lit only by streetlamps and the last vestiges of orange light peeking over the horizon. The air was cool, not cold, but a comfortable, refreshing breeze rustled the leaves of bushes and trees.

The lightly lit houses lay side by side, Identical, down to the paint on the walls and the rows of tulips, roses and other such plants around the edges of each neatly mowed lawn. Yet, one house was different than the others. Not on the outside, or even the inside. No. what made it different was its residents. Or one of them at least.

You see inside this house was a very… different boy. A 14-year-old boy, his back covered in scars. Round, wire-rimmed glasses over his emerald eyes. And a soft smile on his face.

He lay on his back on his bed, the thin mattress dipping slightly beneath the short, scrawny boy, and his eyes staring off into the distance above him.

He rubbed the skin between his knuckles, a habit he noticed he'd picked up recently. He'd thought it ever so slightly odd at first, he'd never really been a fidgety person, yet, considering some of the other oddities he'd experienced, he thought little of it. It wasn't like it mattered, especially not since his most recent adventure, and revelation… He had a Godfather!

Well, he already knew that, he had for some months now, but he'd been of the impression that he was some psychotic mass murderer who'd betrayed him and his parents to the primary nutter. However, he'd found out at the end of last year that it was actually someone else that betrayed his parents, a certain rat he preferred not to name. this meant that his godfather was innocent! And thanks to a certain beardy wizard's advice, his pretty friends time turner, his best mate and some others (a friendly defence werewolf and overgrown flying-horse-eagle-thing), he'd managed to save him! He'd also found out he was pretty damn good at making a patronus, so all in all, it went about as well as he could have hoped, even if the stupid rat bastard got away.

And now he lay in bed, thinking of all the opportunities before him. He may finally be able to leave this hellhole! His godfather's name may not be cleared, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Not when he would have a chance to get away from… them. His so-called family. The ones who beat and starve him. Well… the beatings stopped when Dudley finally got a tail to match the rest of his bod (god bless magic), but he still ate a snack's worth of food a day. But, he was used to it.

He abruptly stood up, walking to the window to close it and the curtains beside it. But as he stood at the window, staring out into the now fully black sky, he couldn't help but just bask in the slight cool breeze, his eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. His motionless form almost invisible in his unlit bedroom, making those eyes stand out even more.

He jerked his head to the right, seeing a snow-white owl scrolling over the sky. His most loyal companion. H one who demanded no explanations, yet listened whenever he spoke, seeming to understand every word he said. Knowing magic, it probably could. After a few moments, he shut the window and curtains, aware that his friend would not return until a few days later, when she wanted some treats and companionship.

He lay back into his bed, the floorboards and mattress springs creaking beneath the featherweight body. As he drifted off into the blissful land of unawareness, he realized he was content, for the first time in his life. And with a light heart and peaceful smile, Harry Potter fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2: The Start of Summer

Chapter 2

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

SLAM!

Harry jolted awake at the sound of the distinct sound of the front door closing. he peered groggily through his half-lidded eyes, trying to adjust to the piercing light coming through the paper-thin curtains.

Another slam sounded, before being promptly accompanied by the sounds of a car turning on and veering down Privet Drive and into the distance.

"Looks like the Walrus has gone..." Harry whispered to himself, a slither of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It took him a moment to recognise the implications of him waking up AFTER his 'family' had eaten their breakfast...

"No way. They didn't actually listen, did they?" He whispered again, his voice laden with confusion as he thought to the ride home the previous day, when he'd had the joys of explaining that he had a 'psychotic serial killer' godfather who would love to pay them a visit if anything even seemed off about him. of course, Sirius could be anywhere in the world, and would have no way of knowing if anything had happened to Harry unless he was either told by someone, or visited the house himself, both of which were unlikely, considering the circumstances.

"Eh, whatever. I'll take what I can get." He mumbled, shoving his quilt to the side and swinging his legs out of bed, before using the wall to push himself up, grimacing as his elbows; knees and back popped. he stumbled toward his wardrobe, opening it carefully, he may be getting better treatment, but he still didn't want to break the rickety old joints between the wardrobe frame and the door.

Once the doors were opened, he pulled out his trunk, a smooth, varnished oak, mixed with strains of dark oak and magical ebony: a substance that was said to be able to absorb most curses and darker hexes (this wasn't exactly proven, but it didn't stop it being advertised as such), and a luxurious, black, leather trim around the edges, lined with golden string. His face split into a wide grin as he spotted the tiny black crest on the underside of its handle. He still didn't know how Sirius got it to him, he put his original packed trunk onto the overhead compartment above him on the Hogwarts express, only to see it had been replaced with this during the trip, a small tag attached to the handle labelled 'Your actual trunk was crap, so I took the liberty of replacing it for you. Instructions inside. Love, Lucius Malfoy'. Oh, he dropped the thing like it was set on fire, poisoned and made of human skin. it was only after a few minutes of calming down that He, Ron and Hermione plucked up the courage to open it, only to see all of his things inside of it, and a note saying 'GOTCHA! Love Padfoot'. He still didn't know how he did it. But he definitely didn't mind the trunk itself. He'd been confused at first when he'd seen the instructions booklet, but after a quick scan, he discovered it actually had 3 different compartments, each only accessible by using a certain password. At the moment, the passwords were fairly basic, being pre-set before he got it, but he could change it if he chose to. He'd thought about setting them in Parseltongue, but he still didn't feel entirely comfortable with it, even if he knew it wasn't actually evil.

"Grimmauld" he spoke, making sure to articulate it carefully, it had taken him a few tries to get it right the when he first got the trunk, and he heard the distinct 'clack' of the locking mechanism moving, before the trunk popped open slightly. He opened the trunk, being face with a compartment about twice the size of what should be contained, half full of new muggle clothes from brands that would make Dudley drool, the other half of robes of varying colours and materials, ranging from lightly coloured Acromantula silks to dark Thestral leathers. Harry tugged on a slightly loose fitting black t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, enjoying the feel of comfortable clothes that actually fit him.

After changing, he closed the trunk, taking a second to marvel over the smooth feel of the wood beneath his fingertips and palms. After a few short moments, he spoke again,

"Strength." And with another 'clack', he re-opened the trunk, and coming face to face with a small collection of book spines, and a single book in the centre, this laying face upwards, covered in a blood red material with an odd texture, similar to leather, except it seemed to flow like liquid under the hand when held. The book had no title, simply labelled 'catalogue' in a flowing script, somehow composed of black and white, mixing together like two coloured gases, while the shape of the words themselves never changed.

Harry picked out the book, opening it and seeing a void beneath where it lay, yet he knew from experience that if he touched it, it would feel solid as rock. He moved to his bed and opened the book, which seemed to be as thick as his head, and flipped past the first few pages, made up of the Black Family Tree (he noticed some names and faces had red or black lines around them, but he couldn't figure out what they meant, only that Sirius' was Black, while a cousin of Sirius' named 'Andromeda' was red), a small intro on how to use the book, and a warning that if anyone not given the book by someone of the family turned to the next page, their body would simultaneously melt and decompose slowly, whilst the book absorbed their soul (fun), before he reached the page he wanted. A page that was entirely blank, but for a single circle in the centre. Harry placed his thumb onto the circle, and within seconds, a list of books, in the same flowing script as the front cover) appeared on the page. Harry smiled to himself, marvelling at the brilliance and complexity of it. You see, when someone places their thumb (either one) onto the circle, it scans their surface thoughts for a list of books that relate to the topic they are looking for, in Harry's case, books on household magic, school books (magic and muggle), and one or two on magic itself (such as how it works, and why wizards need wands)!

Harry tapped the names of 5 books, which turned green beneath his fingers. He turned to the trunk, seeing a stack of the 5 books he had requested stacked on top of the black space that he picked up his current book from. He closed the book in his hands, grateful for the easy access to the knowledge. He could go through the entire book, looking through the categories for what he wanted, but this was so much easier, and the page seemed to have exactly what he needed from the categories. though he had skimmed through some of the categories the previous day when he arrived at number 4, but after turning to a series of black pages, he realised that was a bad idea. Who new titles alone could make him feel unease?

He rose from the bed again and placed the book next to the trunk, before removing the 5 new books from the trunk and placing them on the bed. He replaced the catalogue and shut the trunk, before dropping onto his head again reaching for the first book on the pile.

"The simple complexities of Magic, by Theodore Black the third. simple complexities? how does that even work?!" he wondered to himself, nevertheless opening the tomb and beginning to read:

 _Magic is often thought to be some form of energy beyond our control, but this is simply untrue. Magic is impossible to quantify. To label it as something as simple as energy is an insult to the true complexities and awe-inspiring mania of magic. Many a scholar has claimed that we have a finite amount of magic within our core, which fills up to a certain level. This is also wrong. This goes by the assumption that each singular individual contains a certain amount of magic, whilst another contains a different amount. And this somehow refills after being used through different types of spells. This is counter-intuitive. consider this, for a core to refill, there must be a store of magic somewhere, whether it be all around us or from a separate dimension it doesn't matter, what does matter is that it must come from somewhere. And seems as people never stop 'refilling their cores' so to speak, we are left to assume that this supply is endless. there is either one infinite supply of magic which everyone pulls from, or an innumerous number of supplies, which each individual pulls from. But I pose to you this. If we have an infinite amount of magic to pull from, why does our core ever get drained enough to where it must be left to refill? surely it would be more efficient to just pull from the source itself? And so we would each be capable of using magic forever, regardless of what we are doing, ranging from making a feather float to conjuring a we cannot. I believe that our so-called core does not exist, and the actual limits of our magic lays within the sub-conscious. Evidence for this comes from the dark lord Marseille the Mad of 24 BC, a wizard of average 'power' who was tortured to the point where his mind shattered (quite literally, those who used legilimency on him had their minds, and sometimes even their physical brains, torn to shreds within seconds), upon which point he was able to perform feats of magic beyond which we have seen since, such as the time he used a single spell to cause the entire city of Mayainea (since hidden by the Fidelius) to crumble in on itself, killing all but a few of its inhabitants, who some have claimed he killed by shooting pure black magic from his fingertips! Surely the showing of such power after such mediocrity can be assumed to be at least be partially brought up by his mind's lack of barriers!_

 _This also brings up the point of wandless magic. Something said to be impossible by all. Yet across millennia we have seen examples of wizards supposedly capable of it, from Merlin to Imhotep, it has been assumed that these cases are either exaggerated by time, or the product of wizards with such huge magical cores that they 'leak', making them capable of minor uses of wandless magic. such as simple summonings, or the 'lumos' charm. However, we can see contradictions to this, many people claim to have used small amounts of wandless magic during times of rage, anguish or terror, when the mind could be said to crack slightly, exposing their real potential. Such a when my dear friend Leonardo da Vinci was being attacked by a thief, and caused the man's own knife to plunge into his chest, despite being out of arms reach and having left his wand at home. This can also be seen during times of serenity, when the mind reveals a tiny glimpse into its true inner workings, which cannot be found even in occlumency. An example of this would be when a man (whose real name was lost many a century ago, though I believe those in the east call him the 'Buddha') was able to levitate himself during meditation. Could this all point to the key to wandless magic being the same as that of unlimited magic? Are all magicals really built upon a base facsimile of blocked potential?!_

 _That could be the case. Yet, when the mind reaches its breaking point, in a very select few, it is said that 'something else' is unlocked. A beast. A wild berserker rage that has given people the strength to destroy armies of wizards with daggers or war axes. Such as when the Viking lord ' Prince Eldron IV' saw his father and two brothers killed in battle. And when he was next found, all that remained was him, surrounded by the thousand bodies of the opposing army, himself covered in all manner of wounds, but still alive. Upon basic analysis, it appeared the young Prince had defeated the entire army with but his mace and war hammer. Is this our true potential? The power to eviscerate thousands fuelled on nought but rage?_

 _I know, I keep ladening you with questions but no answers. but that's what magic is all about. The endless struggle to understand something that has no explanation. It just is. It is infinite, yet also finite in its users. Something that has been falsely named as simple when in reality it is extensive and complex beyond understanding. Something that we either are capable of using only so far as our minds allow, or actually limited in and of itself, and cases of extreme power being the result of anomalies within the universe itself. Whatever it is, it eludes me still. Yet this first chapter should hopefully show how I aim to brig both of us, the reader(s) and myself, closer to an understanding of the true nature of magic, to as far a point as we can conceive._

"Wow," Harry said to himself, turning the corner of the page and closing the book "That's a lot to take in." He found himself pondering on what had been said. What was magic? Why could only certain people use it...?

"Ah! No! I'm not going to drive myself mad thinking about some stupid crap about the 'nature of magic'!" He groaned, "What else have we got here? hmm... Simple household charms for beginners by Hillary Souk. Sure, why not? Better than making my brain melt from all that 'potential in the mind' stuff."

 _Charms are very important in the average home..._

* * *

One hour later, Harry closed the book his mind churning with all the knowledge on dusting and washing spells. He felt his stomach grumble. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Last night at least. He may be used to starving but he really wanted some food right now. He stood up from his bed (yet again) and groaned as his tense muscles started to loosen in his back. He shoved his books and trunk beneath the bed, knowing that Dudley wouldn't go anywhere near there (the boy was still afraid of 'monsters in the dark') and stepped towards the door.

Time to see the Dursleys...

* * *

 **A/N Yes, I'm aware that there was a lot of exposition in this, and not a lot really happened, but, y'know... gotta do it at some time. So, fuck it. No time like the present! I'll get Chpt.3 up when I can, but exams and all that so... yeah. Can't promise this will be daily or whatever. Welp, with that out of the way, feedback would be appreciated, and thanks for spending some of your pointless, finite existence on me. Adios!**

 **P.S. Thanks to sassy937 for being the first reviewer! High-five!**


	3. Chapter 3: A Sirius Letter

Chapter 3

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

Harry grimaced as the floorboards creaked beneath his feet, slowly closing the door behind him. He spent a moment looking around the landing. He'd never really spent any time truly appreciating the awe-inspiring drabness of the Dursley's house. The wallpaper was a pastel white, with blue and pink flowers coating it. The thin carpet was a dull red, and the stairway handle was a light birch wood.

He slowly made his way down the steps, feeling the wooden handle beneath his fingers. Not quite as smooth as his trunk, but nevertheless better quality than most people would be used to. As he reached the bottom of the stair, he could hear the soft mumble of the T.V. coming from the far end of the short hallway. he stepped through slowly, pausing for a second to glance at the cupboard, shivering at the memories of beatings and starvation.

"No more..." he whispered to himself, "I'll be free soon, free to live with Sirius, and go out and do what I want, eat what I want, and see who I please." He smiled to himself, recalling the many times when he promised to rid himself of the Dursleys. And now, he was closer than ever. With a small weight lifted from his heart, he stepped forward a few paces and pushed into the Dursley's kitchen.

He looked around the kitchen. The plates were still in the glass cabinets, spotless as ever, but he could smell the fading aroma of an English breakfast in the air.

"So, you're finally awake" Harry turned to see Petunia sitting on the sofa, watching a gardening programme, something she liked to do when her husband had just left for work.

"You didn't wake me" he said, the surprise easily noticeable in his voice.

"With that infernal godfather of yours on the loose, your uncle and I decided it would be best to let you go without your chores this summer." The disdain was evident in her voice, but Harry could tell that she was afraid. And if Vernon agreed with her, he was definitely off the hook. "Vernon has gone to work, as you've no doubt noticed, and Dudley has gone to the park with his friends. You can Make a small brunch with the bacon and bread that wasn't used, it will go off tomorrow anyway."

Harry couldn't believe his luck. For once, he got to cook food and eat all of it himself! He grinned as he finished making his sandwich. There was only three pieces of bacon and two slices of brown bread left, but it was far more than he was used to.

"I'll still expect you to clean up after yourself" Harry jumped in his seat. When did, Petunia come next to him?!

"Yes, Aunt Petunia" He replied, almost on auto drive, after all, he'd had that drilled into him for a decade.

"Good, I still expect you to be on your best behaviour while you're here, Godfather or not. In fact, it would be best if you stay either in your room or out the house most of the time, I have to get some things together for Duddeykin's sleepover. And the last thing I need is for you to get in my way while I'm working. Got it?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." He mumbled again, fully aware that Dudley's sleepover was at his friend Piers Polkins' house, so whatever preparation she did would take an hour at most. And all of it would be pointless anyways, Piers' parents were out of town, so in all likelihood Dudley would end up getting drunk and forgetting about his bag full of supplies.

"Right, now hurry up will you, I'll need the kitchen in a few minutes to bake some cakes for the Browns' charity event…"

* * *

 _5 hours later_

Harry lay in bed, reading through a book on defence magic, so absorbed that he didn't notice the distinct 'tap tap tap' on the window. After a few minutes, he a screech permeated the air, causing him to jump and fall off his bed, landing on his stomach. He groaned as he stood up, shakily folding the corner of his page and throwing the book onto the bed. He stumbled to the window, only to come face to face with a giant bird, with a black body, white head and a yellow beak. Next to it, much to his surprise, was Hedwig! After fumbling with the latch, he opened the window, watching in amazement as the unknown bird flew a few circles around his room, before landing on top of Hedwig's cage, it's claws holding it precariously upright, despite the regal bird seeming to keep its balance perfectly. Hedwig soon followed it, but choosing to land on Harry's shoulder, nipping his ear affectionately.

"Hello girl, who's your friend?" At the use of the word friend, Hedwig's claws became slightly tighter on his shoulder, nearly digging into it.

"Okay! Okay! Definitely not your friend…" He could see Hedwig was now glaring at the large bird, which he could now recognize as an eagle, a bird he'd seen in an animal book he'd once stolen from Dudley, before he was caught with it and thrown into the cupboard.

Without warning, the bird gave another screech, causing Harry's ears to ring loudly, before it stuck out its leg imperiously, whereupon Harry could see a black envelope attached with a very familiar crest.

"Well you definitely don't half do things do you, Sirius?" He murmured, slowly approaching the bird and attaching the letter, only for it to immediately take off out of his window. Hedwig followed it to the windowsill giving off a screech that seemed to Harry to be almost a challenge.

"What have we got here Sirius?" He asked, opening the letter as Hedwig returned to her perch. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon, or to see Hedwig for that matter…"

Harry threw the envelope onto the round, with a now torn black family crest upon it, sat on his bed, resting his back against the wall, and began to read.

 _Heya Pup! How are you doing? I know you've only been stuck in that wreck for a day now, but I couldn't wait to tell you where I am… *Dramatic Breath* America! I've wanted to see the States since I left Hogwarts, but with the war and all that, I've not really had the opportunity, but now I'm here! Anyways, I've gotten sanctuary in an old Black place Just outside of Vegas, best decision of my life! The women here are beautiful! And the drinks! Who knew muggles were so good at making alcohol?! Anyways, I'm rambling, the house I'm currently in has a few ancient house elves left, so food-wise I'm all good, but how are you? Are the Dursley's treating you well? What do you want for your birthday? All that kind of stuff. While the nights are great, it's hard to find anything to do in the day, everyone is too sober, and I might get recognized, even here, so any letters or things I can get you would be appreciated._

 _By the way, do you like the Trunk? You have no idea how hard that trick was to pull off, not that I'll tell you how I did it of course! Well, not yet, maybe one day, a prankster's son you are, so a prankster I will make you!_

 _All the best,_

 _Padfoot._

 _P.S. Sorry if Percival was a bit arrogant, the bastard tends to be a bit short with people, but he's a damn good bird, believe it or not._

 _P.P.S. Make sure to keep up to date with your friends, especially that Hermione girl, she seemed pretty reliable._

Harry smiled as he finished the letter, and moved to his desk to write a letter in reply. Sirius' letter was a surprise, but it was nice to hear from him so soon.

 _Dear Padfoot…_

* * *

Harry dropped his quill into the ink pot, folding the letter into an envelope and sealing it with a Gryffindor wax presser he'd found in the common room.

"Here you are Hedwig, this is going to America, so make sure you're rested enough before you leave" he said, speaking softly as he tied the letter around Hedwig's leg, taking a few minutes to stroke her feathers and feed her some owl treats.

Harry moved to his window at the sound of a car engine coming down the road, seeing his uncle's car pulling into the driveway, only for Hedwig to zoom past him through the window.

"God luck Hedwig." He mumbled, turning back to his room, picking up his book and going back to his page. "So… the Protego charm…"

* * *

 _2 weeks later_

Harry stared out the window, reflecting on the past two weeks. All in all, he'd had a pretty relaxing time, mostly going through the books in the Black trunk and doing his summer homework. This was definitely the best summer he'd had so far. He'd had a reply from Sirius the other day, and had another letter on its way to him. Apparently, Sirius had hooked up with some blonde from a city called Los Angeles and was having the time of his life, but he still found time to write to Harry.

Next to him, he could see Ron and Hermione's letters, he'd gotten Hermione's through the post the previous day, and Ron's that morning. He hadn't opened them yet, without the constant pressure by the Dursleys, as well as having constant contact with Sirius, he wasn't as manic about getting any shred of news from them. He rather liked having that burden off of his shoulders, being able to relax and choose when to read them, though he'd likely get distracted and end up doing it under the cover of night anyways. Besides, with Hedwig out on the long journey to Sirius, he rather enjoyed having Ron's owl around, though he'd been very surprised when it first arrived. Apparently, after the loss of 'Scabbers' Sirius felt bad enough to buy Ron a pet owl, a very small and excitable thing named Pigwidgeon, though it was soon shortened to Pig. He turned to see the bird sleeping in Hedwig's cage, yet he knew it wouldn't last, and there was no way in hell he'd be able to keep him around longer than it would take him to read and reply to both letters before the novelty of it wore off.

All he had to do now was lay back, wait and relax. And this Summer would be over before he knew it. Maybe this would stack up to be a normal summer after all…

* * *

 **A/N Not my favourite part of the story, but I needed to get some exposition and basic info in before anything really starts to happen. The 'Wolverine' element won't play into this for a while, but we'll get there. Eventually. As of right now I'm in it for the long haul, so let's keep this thing going!**

 **Cheers.**


	4. Chapter 4: A Vision of Death

Chapter 4

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

 _ **The night was dark. The sky a pitch-black void split only slightly by the light of the half-moon. Heavy boots trudged along the damp grass, worn by a man with a grim frown and a bent back. He lofted a heavy metal lantern, illuminating the immediate area around him. His pace was slow, and it took him a good minute to cross the metres it took him to reach his destination.**_

" _ **Damn kids…" the words were muttered under his breath, which was old and croaky, slightly hoarse from disuse. "Who do they think they are? Starting up the fireplace in the master bedroom. The whole bloody house could burn down!"**_

 _ **The lantern was lifted higher, to the man's eye level, so as to illuminate a further distance, allowing him to check for any other intruders before going ahead.**_

 _ **This action served to illuminate his face, and show off his pale wrinkles, dull eyes and wispy grey hair. And a permanent frown fixed upon his brow. However, those who knew him long enough (Though by now, no such a person seemed to exist), would recognise that though this had stood out prominently upon his brow for a half a century, there was once a time when a smile would be the most common sight upon his face. However, since… that night, in 1943, things had never been the same…**_

 _ **You see, in 1943, the Riddle family that once occupied Riddle Manor was found dead in the house, yet there was no mark upon them. No physical wounds, poison, or other evidence of foul play. Yet, due to the extraneous circumstances of their deaths (all of them having been perfectly healthy at the time), he was suspected, and by some, blamed, for their untimely deaths.**_

 _ **This led to the constant mumblings and glares that he had to endure whenever he left the sanctum of the Riddle Manor gardens. Sometimes, however, teenagers seemed to enjoy tormenting him more buy throwing stones or eggs at the manor, or even breaking in! And so, the sight of a light within the master bedroom severely upset the man. Of course, he had never really been the same since the night of the Riddle deaths. It was much less noticeable when he left, but when he was within the grounds, he was far less than kind to anyone he saw, though perhaps this was why he was so suspect of the Riddle deaths.**_

 _ **However, whenever other people did come into the manor, they soon followed his footsteps, becoming sharp-tongued and rude, even cruel, this worsened as one came closer to the cellar, so much so that he had locked and boarded the cellar. Yet, the grounds still had this effect, and seemed to contain a… presence. Something that fed off darkness and evil, using this to cause these emotions in people, causing a cycle of dark emotions with those within the grounds. The shadows seemed to coalesce, looking almost corporeal, and gave off the impression of something that was waiting to pounce, on whoever came too close.**_

 _ **But that was irrelevant to the man, as he pulled a rusted iron key from his left pocket, pushing it into the doors lock and twisting it. He pulled it from the door, stepping through and shutting the door behind him. As he stepped through the house, he found his right leg trembling, the one he'd damaged in the second world war. This happened occasionally, but not so bad as now. He took a moment to lean against a wall, allowing him to gain some level of control back over his now softly shivering limb. He took another moment to catch his wheezy breath, but tensed when he heard a *hisssss* come from above him. He slowly looked upwards, but saw nothing but the dark oak floorboards of the landing above.**_

" _ **Damn house" he whispered to himself, propping himself upright and making his way to the master bedroom. The floorboards of the old steps creaking beneath his feet.**_

 _ **However, when he reached the right floor, he heard not the sound of giggling children, but what appeared to be a slightly high pitched man's voice, lightly speaking to someone, stuttering over his words and whimpering occasionally. He slowly made his way to the door, and opened it an inch, wincing as it creaked softly, but the man appeared not to hear, likely not being able to hear it over the crackling fireplace and his own voice.**_

" _ **My lord… does it have to be the boy?" The voice was more a whimper than anything else, yet through the small gap in the door all that could be seen was the back of the chair, and the front of the fireplace. And from where the voice seemed to be coming from, the man must have been kneeling in front of the chair.**_

" _ **YES! It must be the boy. Do you dare to question my judgement Wormtail? After all I've done for you?" This voice was quiet, nary a whisper, and had a serpentine sound about it, the s' seeming to drag on. Yet it contained a level of malevolence only matched by the cellar of the house. So strong was it that it made the elderly man shiver.**_

" _ **Of course, not my lord! I was merely curious, I would never question you!" The apparently named Wormtail responded, nearly tripping over every syllable in fright.**_

 _ **As Wormtail said this, the man felt a slither against his left foot and jerked it away, only to freezer as a massive python slithered through the door, into the room, before climbing up to the top of the high-backed chair. The man heard a series of hisses, seeming to from from the snake and… the chair?**_

" _ **Well, let us hope your curiosity is sated Wormtail, as it appears we have a guest. Come in Mr Bryce! We wouldn't want you to feel like an outsider." The man stood stock-still, like a statue, or fragment in time, before plucking up his courage and stepping into the room. The king-size bed lay behind him, the door to his right, and the chair & fireplace in front of him. **_

" _ **Who are you people?!" He demanded, feeling the house fuel his righteous anger.**_

" _ **Really Frank" The voice whispered from the chair. "Do you not recognize my presence? I have been with you, and this house, every day since that fateful night in 1943, when my Father and the rest of those scum came to their rather unfortunate ends."**_

 _ **Frank jaw dropped, before his hatred took hold.**_

" _ **YOU! You killed them! How dare you come in here and sit where they sat!" he yelled, completely failing to register half of what the voice said.**_

 _ **The voice sighed, as if in resignation.**_

" _ **Alas, yes, I murdered my father and his kin. But it was all for a greater purpose, you see, one that you've felt in this house every day since. Now… I believe it's time we met face to face." And with that, the chair levitated before Frank's very eyes! The chair tuned in mid-air, exposing the… thing that rested upon it, holding up a stick of pure white. The figure was skeletal, and appeared to be a dark grey, malformed baby, completely dwarfed by the chair it sat in, and looking every bit like a small demon. Its eyes were crimson, and showed both a level of power and rage that cut through Frank's own anger. He knew those eyes, he'd seen them before, the day before the Riddles' deaths, and never again after…**_

 _ **Besides the tiny figure stood a small pudgy man with mousy features and baby blue eyes. Wormtail apparently.**_

" _ **Now Frank," The voice cut through the air like a knife, "I believe it's time to end this little conversation of ours. You've seen quite enough."**_

" _ **Your fathe-?" The newly recognized words were cut off by a screech from the small, thin creature, as it raised its pearly white stick again.**_

" _ **AVADA KEDAVRA!"**_

 _ **These were the last words Frank Bryce heard, as his world was engulfed in a vibrant green, then… nothing. Alone, no wife, no children. Nothing. Just… Gone.**_

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open as he bolted upright, panting and sweating like crazy. His eyes were panicked and frenzied as he took in his surroundings. His room… in Privet Drive… No Manor. No Snake. Just… at the Dursleys'

He let out a low groan as he fell back onto his mattress. Contemplating what he'd just seen in his dream. He let out a tired moan as he closed his eyes, realizing what he'd just witnessed.

"Crap…"

* * *

 **A/N Yay! Another one! (Finally…) Would have posted sooner, buuuuuut I was enjoying Easter ( & revising). Like I said, I'll do what I can. Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated, even flames, if just for the entertainment of seeing people get angry and hurl abuse at me on the internet as adverse to real life. **

**Welp, bye for now!**


	5. Chapter 5: An Invitation

Chapter 5

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

Harry stared out the window of his room – something he'd noticed he tended to be doing a lot nowadays – his hands clutching a letter from the Weasleys, a slight frown etched onto his forehead. He sighed as he looked down to stare at the papery package clutched in his fingers. The envelope appeared normal on the back, however, the front side was what Harry could only describe to himself as 'your everyday Weasley madness', as the entire side, save for a tiny square containing the Dursley's address, was coated in a veneer of stamps, a cacophony of various colours and faces.

Harry sighed again as he stared at the envelope, before a small chuckle escaped his lips, his frown fading and a small smile appearing on his lips. He knew what the letter was about of course, Ron had told him about the Quidditch world cup a few days before in a letter of his own – in between ramblings of the twins' latest pranks and the ghouls maniacal mumblings – which he'd spent more time than he'd like to admit attempting to get, thanks to Pigwidgeon. Add to this Hermione's own letter, a mixture of her own ramblings about the school homework (something which he was flying through thanks to the books in his trunk, which he was fairly sure could replace Snape as a teacher), asking how the Dursley's were treating him, attempting (badly) to ask about Sirius in code, though changing his name to snuffles and replacing a few words with those from a 12th century thesaurus did little to hide who she was talking about, and, more importantly, informing Harry that she would not be able to be contacted by telephone (as if the Dursleys would let him anywhere near theirs) or owl, but they'd see each other soon. It didn't take Harry long to deduce that the three would be going to the Quidditch world cup (most likely with the rest of the Weasleys).

The bedframe creaked as Harry dropped onto it, propping his lone pillow against the wall to lean against. He allowed himself a moment to relax, before opening the envelope and pulling out the parchment.

 _Hello Harry! Mr Weasley here, I hope this gets to you in time, I don't know how muggle post works, so I sent the letter a week early, from one of those post boxes (fascinating by the way! How do they work? Perhaps by teleporting it to you, or sending them in tubes to peoples' houses?! I must remember to ask you!)_

Harry snorted as he imagined Mr Weasley examining a post box, taking in every detail, trying to figure out how it worked. He'd always liked the man, he was a bit eccentric, but that was more endearing to the man, to him at least, though he understood how it could grate on some people.

 _Well, on to the matter at hand, I've managed to get tickets to the Quidditch world cup, and I was hoping you'd come with us! It'll be all of us except Molly, as she volunteered to get the kid's school supplies (and yours if you'll allow her – I wouldn't try and stop her though!)_

Harry let out another snort as he thought of the Weasley matriarch's famous, or rather infamous temper. He probably already had whatever books he would need, unless there was a drastic change in curriculum this year, was unlikely, but he'd rather just let Mrs Weasley go and buy the books using his vault money than have to explain how the black trunk's library worked. Actually, thinking on it, he'd rather that she didn't know at all, as she'd probably try to take it from him, citing it as 'dark magic'. He liked her, but he'd very much rather not have that argument.

In reality, if Hermione and Ron hadn't been with him when he'd got the trunk, he probably wouldn't have told them either. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, he was just very aware of their faults, namely that Hermione would inevitably go to McGonagall or another teacher about it if she saw anything she didn't like about it (he was still simmering a bit about her going to McGonagall when he got his firebolt) irrespective of whether it was her business at all, and Ron would probably let slip to someone about it, inevitably leading to the rumour mill talking about him having a black family trunk, and being in league with Sirius (which he sort of was, though he was innocent, so he didn't think it counted) and being a dark wizard (which he was pretty damn sure he wasn't). Harry could only thank whatever deities existed that Hermione didn't know about the library part of his trunk, especially the master book. He didn't need her 'borrowing' it (probably without asking, or only asking once she'd already taken it – she really needed to learn where boundaries were), especially considering the nature of some of the books it contained (such as 'Magick Moste Evile', 'Corrupting the Soul' and 'Magick of Death: Curses and Rituals Foul').

Harry blinked a couple times, pushing his mind back to the task at hand.

"Concentrate Potter" he murmured, in a somewhat passable impression of his least favourite hook-nosed teacher, smirking to himself.

 _If you could send your reply by owl, as we could do with your reply as soon as possible, we'll link the Dursley's fireplace to the floo temporarily to pick you up if you say yes._

 _Yours,_

 _Arthur Weasley._

 _P.S. Molly sends her love, and hopes that the food packages she sent earlier were nice._

 _P.P.S Ron and the others say hello, and look forward to seeing you soon, either at the Quidditch world cup, or on the Hogwarts cup._

Harry let a fond smile grace his face, as he stood up and moved to his desk – a rickety old thing that seemed to defy the laws of gravity by staying upright on its rotting legs.

He picked up a fountain pen and some parchment – silently thanking Sirius for including some in his trunk, as well as the information that the classes didn't actually require quills and ink, though the exams did.

Harry took a moment to think about how to reply, he was going of course, but he just wasn't sure how to word the letter. He leaned back on the (equally dilapidated) chair, nibbling on the pen lid, before a thought struck him. He leaned forward in his chair, a look of comprehension arsing on his face, before he started writing.

 _Dear Mr Weasley,_

 _I would love to come to the world cup with you! Just pick me up when you're able, and please thank Mrs Weasley for the food, it was delicious. Also say hello to Ron, the twins and Ginny, would you? I look forward to seeing them._

 _But, I really have to stress this. DO NOT COME HERE BY FLOO! The fireplace here is an electric fireplace, and so has a glass case on it. And I'd really prefer not to have you get trapped or squashed in it. If you could pick me up by broom or however wizards travel, that would be fantastic._

 _I really look forward to seeing you all, and if you could let Hedwig stay with you while I wait, that'd be great._

 _Harry_

 _P.S. Post boxes work by holding all the letters until a Postman (or Postwoman) collects it and takes it to a post office, which has other postmen/women deliver the letter to the address. It's quite mundane, I know, but it works fine._

Harry looked the letter over, happy to see that it was much more legible than the haphazard scrawl he wrote in when using quills. He rolled up the parchment, and attached it to Hedwig's leg, along with a small package of owl food and treats. She flew up to his shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately, and Harry brushed his cheek against her feathers, softly rubbing her chin.

"Go on girl, the letter's for the Weasleys, but I'll need you to stay there once you've delivered it. I'll be there soon. And try to avoid hitting Pig while you're there, okay? I Know you aren't fond of him, but he's a little… eccentric. That's all" Harry spoke softly, turning his head to look at Hedwig, who was giving him a very imperious look, as if to say, "Of course he's eccentric, that's why I don't like him," before she took off into the sky, headed to the Weasley's humble abode. Harry smiled as he watched her grow smaller on the horizon, until she was nought but a bobbing dot in the distance, and then, gone.

Harry continued to look out the window, enjoying the soft breeze it let in, before being cut out of his reverie by his stomach growling.

"Dobby!" he called, looking at his clock to see it was 7pm. A pop almost immediately followed the word, and Harry turned around to see Dobby looking remarkably healthier, and wearing a clean sheet with the Hogwarts crest on it, Dobby having started to work in the kitchens towards the end of the previous year.

"What would you be requiring Mr Harry Potter Sir?" Dobby's slightly high-pitched voice cut into the air with the type of attention acquiring nature often seen with babies. His voice was not as high pitched as it was, having been free from the hands of the Malfoys from some time, and that wasn't all. Dobby stood tall (for a house elf) his back straight and a proud smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye that spoke of benevolence and joy in life.

Harry had become aware of Dobby's position a few days into the Summer, when he'd been informed that he'd be joining in Dudley's diet, along with the rest of the Dursley's. He thought that he'd be able to somewhat eat properly after the Dursley's were cowed into submission with threats of his Godfather, but after a few days of sweet, sweet, indulgence, he'd been informed that Dudley had been put on a diet, and the whole family was to join in.

Harry couldn't muster the effort to argue, and had solemnly agreed to partake in the diet, content to just beg his friends for food. However, the diet, he'd had a stroke of genius, and had called Dobby, who was only too happy to make and bring in whatever he wanted from the Hogwarts kitchen. Though Mrs Weasley still took it upon herself to send food, having seen Harry the previous year and described him as "a skeleton".

"What's on the menu tonight Dobby?" he asked, a slight smirk on his face. Dobby had become a good friend over the holidays, the titular house elf often staying to talk with him, both sharing a bond over the years of abuse they'd suffered over their respective 'families'. Dobby had even joined him in eating once or twice, though only after large amounts of time spent coaxing and wearing him down.

One huge perk of this was Dobby's hero-worship had all but gone, leaving in its place a very new, but very strong bond that was just as strong, if not stronger than his friendship with Harry and Hermione. Also helped along by the fact that the Dobby was more than what just a stereotypical Gryffindor/Bookworm, with a mixture of bravery, loyalty, cleverness, and cunning, giving Harry a breath of fresh air from the sometimes-overpowering attitudes of Ron and Hermione.

"It be a steak with peppercorn sauce, cooked rare with potatoes and assorted greens Harry sir." Dobby said, "followed with a slice of treacle tart. And perhaps with a small glass or two of Ogden's…" Dobby said the last with a sly smirk, the twinkle in his eye becoming slightly conniving.

"You know me too well Dobby, and will you be dining with me tonight?" Harry said with a chuckle. He enjoyed this, the playing as posh and upper class. It also served to give him and Dobby the slightly childish role-play they were unable to enjoy in their youths.

"As usual Harry sir, I be required in the kitchens. The staff can't cook for themselves. They may get fur, or grease in the food." Harry and Dobby both chuckled this time, the image of Snape and a cat McGonagall cooking for themselves and the rest of the staff pushing to the forefront of their minds.

"Very well Dobby, send it up when you're ready." Harry had barely finished the sentence when Dobby lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, Harry turned to see the desk cleaned, tidied, and with the full meal placed upon it, napkin and silver cutlery included.

"As ever Dobby, you never cease to impress and amaze me." Harry continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Dobby simply copied his smirk, and raised an eyebrow, before disappearing with a pop.

Harry dropped into the chair with a grunt, opening a book on spells for combat (which was apparently illegal for anyone outside of the auror corps to own), and grabbing his knife and fork.

And as Harry ate and read, the sun set outside, the vast emptiness of twilight coating the world like a blanket, and as he savoured each bite of Dobby's exquisite food, everything seemed to be looking up, he was getting fed, and so, bigger and stronger, and he had Sirius for all the advice he wanted. Of course, when things seem to be better than ever, it can only ever get worse. But Harry didn't think about this, or how his forearms were itching – and no scratch could stop it; as if the itch were within the forearm itself, or how his most recent letter to Sirius talked about much darker things, things like Voldemort, Pettigrew and some poor old gardener.

No. For once, Harry just savoured the moment.

* * *

 **Yes, I know, I took my damn time getting this out. I'd like to say something about exams or such, but they ended weeks ago. In reality, I have no excuse. Buuuut, I'm back (still no guarantee that I'll be consistent though)**

 **Reviews are appreciated. Even flames! (if only for my own entertainment). Aaaaaaand I'm out!**


	6. Chapter 6: A Sirius Letter Part Deux

Chapter 6

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

Harry sighed as he sat back in his desk chair, smiling slightly as the food in front of him disappeared with a pop. It was six days since he received the invitation from the Weasleys, and (thankfully) Mr Weasley had got back in touch with him. Harry's grin widened as he recalled the mans near never-ending set of questions about the Dursley's electric fireplace. It was almost impressive how many the man could fit on a piece of parchment, especially considering how he had to write them with a quill and ink. Though, he did seem to have taken Harry's words to heart, and was going to collect Harry by 'apparating' – something which, after five minutes of looking through the black trunk, Harry learned was essentially magical teleportation.

Speaking of his trunk, Harry had been ecstatic to learn that the 'Grimmauld' compartment of the trunk automatically ironed, folded and sorted the clothes placed in it (but cleaning seemed to have been left out of the equation). Harry had mentally promised to buy Sirius a crate of Firewhiskey in thanks, along with another for giving him the trunk in the first place.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Harry turned his head to the window, seeing a large black object blocking off the (admittedly minimal) evening light.

"I'm coming" Harry said, groaning as he hauled himself out of his chair.

Harry stumbled to the window, lifting the rusting latch and pushing the window outwards. The large black shape flew in through the gap, circling the room, before landing gracefully on top of Hedwig's empty perch.

"Hello Percival, long time no see." Percival stared at Harry for a few seconds, looking to all the world as if he'd rather be anywhere else, before letting out an ear-splitting screech and pointing its leg towards Harry, showcasing the rolled-up piece of parchment.

"Fine, fine, nice to see you too…" Harry muttered, stepping towards the perch confidently. That was something Sirius had taught him in their correspondence, be confidant, and you'll be more likely to earn Percival's (and some other more intelligent and/or magical predators') respect. Or as eloquently as Sirius put it:

"Act like a stuck-up prick and they'll maybe probably usually-ish be slightly less likely to try and kill you. What with twats coming in packs and all that."

Percival glared at Harry as he approached, before turning his head up, which Harry took as a sign of approval. Harry smirked slightly at his victory, as well as the memory of Sirius' rather… colourfully worded letters. Harry thought he had had a somewhat extensive vocabulary (having been friends with Hermione for nearly 3 years), but Sirius had taken great delight in proving Harry wrong, even if it was a different kind of vocabulary (what kind of words are spazmoid and shitlark anyway?).

Harry carefully unwrapped the parchment from the outstretched leg, Percival may be a little more partial to Harry, but Harry was still less than partial to pissing off the oversized bird.

"I'll need you to stay until I write a reply to Sirius, Hedwig is staying at the Weasley's house at the moment." Percival's head snapped back down to glare at Harry again, but Harry just continued to smirk and moved away from the temperamental avian as he went to sit in his desk chair.

Harry huffed as he sat ack down, grimacing at the groans of the battered chair. He broke the seal (which consisted of a black ink with specks of gold, depicting a dementor-like figure, pressing a curved blade across a thestral's throat, with a winged snake fighting a raven above them. An odd seal whose origins were apparently lost to the ravages of time) that kept the parchment rolled up and pricked his finger with the needle contained within it, allowing a drop of blood to fall on the parchment, before dropping the parchment onto the desk, allowing it to unroll and flow outwards like a liquid, spreading until it was perfectly flat upon the wood of the desk. This was a more secure way of ending letters Sirius had recently remembered from his time living with his family. It required ether the blood of the intended sender or receiver to open. So pretty secure, if Harry didn't mind saying so himself.

Harry rubbed his knuckles as he leaned forward to read the letter, a slight gleam in his eye as he devoured the words displayed before him.

* * *

 _I'm back bitches!_

 _Hey pup! How've you been holding up? I've been doing great! I mean, I've had to start going out a little less after I spotted a few American Aurors hanging around at night, I don't think they've caught on to me, as Kara - the beautiful lady I've been spending the last few weeks with, y'know, the one I told you about, blonde hair, pretty face, GREAT tits! All that good stuff – told me that this guy has been going around killing people, he police dunno who it is, but apparently, he's been using knives, and not cheap ones either, they're probably enchanted, as they seem to be able to cut through just about anything – which is why the Aurors are involved – but nobody has seen him. Or if they have, they haven't said anything, partly out of fear – obviously – but also 'cause he's only been offing people who have a… less than nice reputation. Real cunts to be honest. Nobody will miss them._

 _Speaking of Kara though, she taught me this great new spell, it's something that's apparently quite common in the states, but, pretty much, it writes down what I write onto the parchment, so you get to hear from me in true form (short of sending a howler, but those things amplify your voice so much that a whisper sounds like a shout)!_

 _Oh, also, I'm fairly sure she knows who I am. She hasn't said anything, but she keeps looking at me funny, and I'm damn sure I didn't get her pregnant, so it can't be that. She hasn't said anything though, so I'll probably just leave it be for now._

 _Anyway! Onto the elephant in the room! That vision you had of Voldemort. Yeah pup, I don't really know what to say, that shit's real fuckin' creepy. I haven't ever heard of a Riddle Manor, Dumbledore probably has, but he tends to keep pretty tight lipped about anything that isn't already public knowledge. If you're going to ask anyone about it, ask him though, he'll be the one who knows._

 _To be honest pup, I'm almost surprised that Voldy had a family, it sounds kinda stupid, but he always seemed so far removed from all of us… On the flip-side, he sounds slightly saner this time around, if only just, but having Wormtail with him all the time can't exactly help that._

 _And that big fuckin' snake you mentioned… Nagini...? Yeah, Nagini! That's it! Anyway, I've never even heard of the blasted thing, he certainly never had it with him n the last war, or if he did, he didn't exactly broadcast it. But if I had to bet anything, I'd say it's probably his familiar, like Hedwig is (or probably will be) for you. OH, if you don't know what a familiar is, just look it up in the trunk. They're not hugely common anymore, but the knowledge is, so finding something shouldn't be hard._

 _Anyway… AAAHHH! WHAT THE SHIMMERING FUCK ARE YOU DOING TATSY?!_

 _Sorry Harry, I've gotta go, Tatsy – one of the house elves – has just tried to clean my… ahem, 'Magazine' collection. There isn't really anything else I can say about your vision, If it really concerns you, take it to Dumbledore. OH! Also, tell him if your scar hurts, apart from… y'know, after one of those vision things (I don't know what to say about that either)._

 _Anyway! I'll get in touch later! Have fun! Cause mayhem! Blow shit up! You're a marauder, and be damn proud of it!_

 _NO JUST MOVE THEM TO THE BED IF YOU'RE GOING TO DUST THE FUCKING THING!_

The letter ended there, the spell likely being cut off by Sirius. Harry let out a chuckle at the thought of Sirius arguing with a house elf over what to do with his porn magazines. Though he had to remember to add 'ask Dumbledore about the vision' to his to-do list. For all he said, there wasn't a lot of help Sirius could give in that respect.

"I'll write now so you can go." Harry said, not bothering to turn his head to Percival. He got a loud screech in return, which he only hoped didn't wake the Dursley's, though it was unlikely, Vernon and Dudley slept like babies, and Petunia was generally quite a heavy sleeper.

He reached across his desk and pulled out a Pen and a piece of parchment, taking a moment to think what to write.

* * *

 _Hey Sirius! It's me again!_

 _Thanks for replying about the vision, I think I'll have to ask Dumbledore about it though, as, like you said, he probably knows._

 _But 'magazines'? Really? I thought you got enough of that sort of thing from Kara? Though speaking of her, if she knows who you are, but hasn't said anything, she probably doesn't care. Either that or she's waiting for the right moment to bring you in, but if she tries, you can just hide out at the black mansion. Or go to another country. Apparently, Spain has a great wizarding community. And a lot of women. Y'know, your type of place._

 _Though leaving may not be such a bad idea, considering that killer that's around. He may only be going after not-so-nice people, but if he knew you were there, then he may just pick you. You are also a mass murderer after all. Well, you're not but he probably doesn't know that._

 _Anyway, I'll going to the Weasley's tomorrow, then the quidditch world cup. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW EXCITED I AM! Hopefully Dobby may be able to get me some Firewhiskey while we're there. Hermione may not approve, and Ron wouldn't be able to keep it quiet, but it's been a while since I've had a conversation with the twins. And the older two brothers might be there (maybe not, but considering how big it is, it wouldn't surprise me if they were). Charlie seemed like a great guy, even if I only met him in first year (I told you about that right, y'know, Norbert and that mess)._

 _But yeah, I don't know whether I'll be able to stay in touch with you while I'm there. Hedwig's there at the moment, so if she leaves, they'll probably notice. Even if they have their hands full with Pig._

 _Speaking of Pig, thanks for that. Because Ron really needed the single most energetic owl in the universe…_

 _Seriously though, stay safe. The last thing we need right now is you getting arrested in another freaking continent. If Kara knows who you are and doesn't give you up, you should probably tell her the full story, you would kinda owe her that._

 _Again, though, thank you for the trunk. That thing's a fountain of knowledge. And the clothes as well. Dudley's clothes are made to fit a planet, not a person._

 _Love_

 _Harry_

 _P.S. Just wondering, but whereabouts could I get one of those magazines? Completely rhetorical of course. It's just… Useful… Information to have._

* * *

Harry put his pen down and rolled up the parchment with a smile. It was nice to speak to Sirius, even through letters. He was all he had left of his family. Well, apart from Remus and Pettigrew, and while Remus was great, they'd never stayed in touch (another thing to add to the to-do list) and Pettigrew could go die in a fire for all Harry was concerned. That would be quite ideal actually.

Harry's face darkened, and a frown crossed his features as he thought of Pettigrew. The traitorous rat would get his just deserts eventually.

Harry pulled an ink matrix across from the corner of his desk and pressed it onto where the tip of the Parchment rolled onto itself, holding it like that with the black seal, before taking the parchment and attaching to (the still glaring) Percival.

"You know who it's for, you can have a drink and a few owl treats if you want. But the sooner he gets it the better." Percival stared at Harry, Looking more affronted than anything. As if HE would want any of those glorified sugar biscuits. He was a predator! He hunted, killed and ate whatever he ate! The nerve of some people…

And in a second, Percival was out the window. The black streak flying across the sky at speeds that pretty much confirmed to Harry that the oversize prick was magical.

"Blasted bird…" he muttered lumbering across his room and dropping on to his bed like a dead weight.

"Sleep now. Weasley's tomorrow." He muttered, the end of the sentence barely audible as he drifted off into his dreams.

* * *

 **A/N And that's another one! The Weasleys arrive in the next chapter (whenever I feel like writing it). And the Quidditch world cup will appear in either that one or the next one. I dunno. My plan isn't in the greatest amount of detail. If I get the time, this will turn into a trilogy. But I'm not gonna say what will happen in the next two stories. That's (probably) a long way away from here (if it happens).**

 **OH! And thanks to sassy973 for being my most consistent reviewer (of my whole 5 reviews** **review are appreciated…** **). You sir… Are a legend!**

 **Props also to tpowe15 and robert32514 for being my other reviewers. You guys are the type of guys that make me want to continue (not really, I don't really know why I write this, but y'know… go you guys)!**

 **Until next time! Peace!**


	7. Chapter 7: The Burrow

Chapter 6

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

Harry groaned as his eyes opened, light flashing across his vision as he slowly turned to grab his glasses from beside his bed. He pushed them on to his face, pushing his hair back and blinking as his room came into focus.

Harry pushed himself up, taking a moment to get his bearings and look around his room. It was completely empty, save for his trunk next to the door, a neatly folded pile of clothes placed on top of it ( _thank you Dobby_ ) and a few pieces of clutter on his desk. A book, some pens and parchment, and a full English breakfast ( _thank you again Dobby_ ).

Harry shoved his covers to the side, stretching as he rose from his bed to sit at his desk, before devouring the food with a gusto that would make on proud.

"Mmmmmm…" Harry moaned to himself as he savoured the taste of a House elf's cooking. "Yet again Dobby, you've outdone yourself." As he shovelled the food into his mouth, he turned to the book he'd been reading: ' _Surviving a duel, what spells to use and how_ '. He turned to the page he'd dog-eared. Some might call him paranoid for feeling the need to read books like these, but with Harry's track record, he preferred to think of it as cautious.

The page gave a list of scenarios a wizard may face, whether it be a one-on-one duel, or a mob gone violent, and what was appropriate force in these situations, as well as a few spells for each of these situations. For example, a blasting curse against one person who's using stunners would be classed as overkill, leading to the caster being in greater trouble than the other, even if it was self-defence. But in a fight against a group using curses or some darker hexes, a blasting spell to the ground beneath or between them would be considered reasonable, though purposeful, direct impact with a singular member of the group would be considered excessive.

Harry spent the next few minutes eating and reading, absorbing the information like a sponge. While he was no Hermione, DADA and magic related to it was something that came easier to him than most other magic. Though until this Summer, he'd never really had the opportunity, or want to read, and now that he had both (thanks to Sirius) he found himself enjoying it quite a lot. The extra knowledge didn't hurt either.

He turned the corner of the page he was on, swallowing his last bite of food and downing the last of the orange juice Dobby supplied. Once the food and drink was gone, the plates, cutlery and glass disappeared with a faint pop, leaving a clean and dusted desk.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, aware that the titular house elf would be able to hear him, "I'll be leaving in a couple of hours, so after that, I'll only need food when I call you."

Harry stood up, stretching his back, before plodding to his trunk and putting on his clothes, which consisted of a pair of black suit trousers (made of a thin type of softened dragon skin, apparently from Antarctica of all places) with a dark green shirt made of Acromantula silk, the top button of which he left undone.

Over this, he wore what seemed to be a mix between wizard robes and a muggle trench coat, something that wouldn't look too out of place in either world, but still looked slightly different to the norm, something which Harry, surprisingly, found he liked. It was made from the hide of a Drakon, a much larger and smarter ancestor of Wyverns and Dragons (both being offshoots of Drakons, though they only had the two wings that wyverns had), which were rumoured to have had some control over magic. Drakons were born at the same size as the largest of Dragons, but grew over their life, never stopping in their growth. At the moment, the only Drakons left were of such a large scale, that they were mostly parts of mountains. Everest was supposedly around half Drakon, though this was contested, as the mountain Drakons were so large, that any movement would cause earthquakes and volcano eruptions. However, the mountain Drakons spent most of their time slumbering, and were so old that a large amount of rock and mud had covered them, making them quite literally, parts of the mountains. This showed how old they were, as the youngest were at least tens of millennia old, and the eldest were immeasurably old, possibly older than Earth itself. When the Drakons did wake, they were often given food by Drakon priests, those who had dedicated their lives to ensuring that the Drakons were as comfortable as possible, so they never moved and caused chaos on the planet. The few Drakons that weren't part of mountains (or even mountain ranges) were in fields and valleys that had a magical barrier around them, allowing them to be bigger on the inside than the outside, and causing muggles who came into the area to walk around the area. No one knew who had done it, as the areas were impossibly big, even Merlin himself would not be capable of that kind of expansion, but they were there, and only accessible to certain wizards. Even Dumbledore wasn't permitted into all of them, which really said something about the scale of the Drakons.

The hide was probably centuries old, taken from the last new-born Drakons, as Drakons only bred every few millennia, and all young Drakons were left to fend for themselves, which led to them being exterminated by wizarding authorities all around the world. The jacket was probably worth more than half of Buckingham Palace, though considering the Black's stupid amount of gold, it was probably replaceable to Sirius.

The overcoat was a black, and had a flowing shadowy pattern, slightly lighter than the rest of the coat, which moved around the coat as he moved, ( **A/N a bit like a black Rorschach's mask in 'Watchmen'** ) though it was dark enough to pass of as a trick of the light to muggles and any inattentive wizards or witches.

Harry had to admit, Sirius may be a bit… excessive in his spending, but he had a bloody good sense of style.

The overcoat was also resistant to spells up to and including strong stunners, and was very hard to damage, it may not absorb a blasting curse, but damn it, it wouldn't even take a scratch as it's occupant went flying into a wall… or volcano. As well as this, water and muck simply flowed off it (though this was due to the enchantments on it, and not the coat itself) and could materialise a hood over the wearers head, which could cover the wearers face in shadow, making it indistinguishable in any light (these were intent powered of course).

Harry examined himself in a handheld mirror he had found in his trunk, and allowed himself a smile. He'd filled out a bit over the previous weeks, looking less like a weedy, malnourished boy and more like a slightly healthier than normal teen, he still looked his age, but a stronger and healthier version of someone his age. If he was honest, he suspected Dobby was spiking his food with extra nourishment and growth potions, not that he was complaining, he looked damn good, and he'd finally reached the same height as the other guys his age. Maybe even an inch or two taller.

Harry dropped the mirror into a pocket inside of his overcoat, and stuck is wand inside a small holster on the inside of his left sleeve, something which was made so the wand could be pulled out by the other hand in what Harry assumed was an impressive flourish.

Harry moved back to his chair, picking up the book and turning back the page, after all, he had a few hours to kill before the Weasley's turned up.

* * *

Harry closed the book with a snap, stretching and yawning in his chair. It was a now about ten minutes to three in the afternoon. The Weasley's were going to pick him up at three, giving him time to settle into his (or rather Ron's) room. Seems as a floo connection didn't have to be attached to the Dursley's house, Mr Weasley was able to pick him up earlier than was originally planned.

"Thank god for small mercies." Harry muttered, while his summer had actually been good this time around, Privet Drive was a depressing place to be, especially now that every time he saw the Dursleys' they either looked at him with fear, instead of just the usual hate, though that was there as well, though mostly just in Vernon, who he rarely saw anyway.

Harry threw his pens and parchment on top of his trunk, knowing that Dobby would put them into it (Harry had seen fit to give Dobby the password to his trunk after Dobby was electrocuted for trying to put some of his clothes in it) with the exception of a single fountain pen and a small notebook, full of spells, enchantments and other pieces of information – though most of it pertained to combat – which he placed into a pocket on inside his coat, on the right side. It had taken him a while to notice that the pockets were made to be featherlight, and some were capable of holding vast amounts of things (which were summoned to the wearer's hand when they placed their hand into the pocket and thought about what they wanted), even things that shouldn't be able to get in through the opening, though the pocket he placed the notebook and pen into were not enchanted this way. However, all the pockets were enchanted to stop things from falling out, so he didn't have to worry about losing his notes.

Harry stepped out of his room to go to the bathroom, and could hear the television mumbling from downstairs, which signalled that Dudley was home, and Petunia was likely in the kitchen making him some (more) food. Harry hoped that at least Dudley would be gone when Mr Weasley arrived, he'd rather not have the man insulted, he was a friend after all.

Harry walked into the bathroom, pausing at the mirror to see his full body, instead of the small view Sirius' mirror gave him. He soon found himself looking at his scar, which was slightly redder than usual, with thin black line running through the centre of the shape, making it look more like a recent injury than a scar. At least it didn't hurt at the moment…

* * *

Harry stepped back into his room to find it completely empty of his possessions, sans the trunk. Dobby had put his remaining things back into it, it seemed. Even Hedwig's cage was gone, having been cleaned and shrunk by Dobby, Harry just had to get it out of the trunk and tap it to enlarge it (something which he'd make sure he did alone, he'd rather not have to explain how he knew Dobby, as that would likely lead to him explaining how Dobby stole food from Hogwarts for him to eat over the break).

He took a few moments to take in the room. This had been his room for nearly three years now, and he couldn't wait to see it go. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Harry picked up his trunk and went downstairs.

Harry stepped into the living room of the Dursley household to see Dudley sat on the sofa, his eyes glued to the tele screen. He looked to his right to see Petunia in the Kitchen, making what appeared to be a salad for Dudley. _A salad?_

Harry blinked as he remembered that Dudley was on a diet. He hadn't eaten with the Dursley's for so long that he'd forgotten. But, judging by Dudley's size, he had been eating outside of the school nurses' strict regime. He dropped his trunk with a soft 'thud' onto the carpet, and dropped into the armchair next to the sofa.

"What are you doing freak?! That chair's for Dad!" Dudley's piggish voice cut through the air like a tank shell though cotton, his whiny wails causing Harry's ears to wring.

"Well Ickle Duddeykins, Vernon isn't here right now, and I'll be leaving in a couple of minutes, so what's it matter?" Harry said the former part of the sentence in as condescending a voice as he could manage, and was rewarded with Dudley's face going a shade of red that was rivalled only by the actual blood that caused it.

"You never told us you were leaving." Harry turned from Dudley to see Petunia opposite him, holding a bowl in her hands, Dudley's 'snack'. Salad or not, that could finish even Ron's appetite before he was halfway through it.

"What? I basically never saw you anyway, and I thought you'd be happy to see me gone, I'll be staying with some friends of mine for the rest of the summer. Is that a problem?" Harry said, keeping his voice as indifferent as possible. "If it is, I'm sure my Godfather would be delighted to pay a visit."

Petunia paled visibly at the mention of Sirius, and simply shook her head.

"No. No problem." Petunia even sounded frightened. Not that this stopped her from passing the food to Dudley. After all, he was _far_ too slim already.

"Who would want to be friends with you?!" Harry turned back to Dudley, seeing his mouth so full of food that he was surprised he could even make any noise at all, let alone speak.

"Oh, y'know, just some wizards," Petunia gasped, "the same sort of people as Hagrid. You remember him, don't you, the one who gave you that little piggy tail?" Harry made his voice sickeningly sweet for this, barely stopping himself from laughing as Dudley's eyes widened comically, and he went from red to white in microseconds. He let an ' _eep_ ' sound out from between the food shovelled into his face.

"And how are they picking you up?" Petunia's voice was slightly shrill now, showing that she was either frightened or angry, most likely frightened, judging by the look on her face, but possibly both.

"Well," said Harry turning to look at the clock set above the sofa, "you'll see in about, three, two, one..." A second after Harry said one, a ' _crack_ ' sounded, and Harry turned to see Mr Weasley standing in the centre of the living room.

Mr Weasley's sudden arrival was accompanied by Petunia's shrill shriek as someone appeared in her living room, and Dudley jumping out of his seat to hide behind the sofa, flinging his bowl of salad everywhere.

Mr Weasley looked at the chaos that had just erupted around him, a look of genuine confusion across his face. And that was the straw that broke the camel's back…

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Harry burst out laughing, unable to take the mess before him. He found himself on the floor, laughing and wheezing as Mr Weasley looked at him with concern.

It took Harry a good five minutes before his laughter turned to giggles, and then subsided. He pushed himself up, so he was sat on the floor, his back leaning against the base of the chair. He turned to see Dudley cowering behind the sofa, blubbering and crying.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Harry looked up to see Mr Weasley looking quite concerned, and more than a little bit bewildered. Over his shoulder he could see Petunia's face switching from shock, to fury, to terror and back to shock again. This caused Harry to burst out laughing again.

Eventually, Harry hauled himself off the ground, still giggling.

"Hello Mr Weasley, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm very well, thank you Harry. How are you?"

"I'm great thanks. Shall we head off?" Harry, having finally stopped giggling, couldn't wait to leave, even if the look on Dudley's and Petunia's faces were priceless.

"Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye to your family?" Mr Weasley seemed slightly shocked at Harry's eagerness to leave, He knew that Harry didn't get on with his relatives, but he assumed it was in a manner similar to Molly and the Twins, they drove each other round the bend, but they still loved each other to bits. Harry, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about them at all.

"Yeah, sure. Bye Petunia, bye Dudley. Okay, let's go."

Harry picked up his trunk, moving close to Mr Weasley, who seemed – thankfully – to get the hint.

"Okay, Harry, hold onto my arm, make sure your grip is tight, and don't let go until I say so. Be warned though, apparition tends to be uncomfortable to people unused to it."

With that, Harry grabbed onto Mr Weasley's forearm, smirking at Petunia. And with a ' _crack_ ', they disappeared.

* * *

Harry reappeared in front of the door to the burrow, stumbling as he landed, though his grip on Mr Weasley's arm allowed him to stay upright. He dropped his trunk to the ground and turned to the side, barely stopping himself from retching.

"I'm surprised Harry, many wizards older than yourself are sick when they are apparated for the first time.

"Glad to know I exceeded your expectations." Harry sighed and stood up straight again, still feeling a bit green, but not close to vomiting anymore.

Mr Weasley picked up his trunk and pushed open the front door, walking in with a booming "Molly I'm home!" He held the door open for Harry, ushering him into the kitchen.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he stepped into the kitchen/dining room of the burrow, and seemingly every member of the Weasley family jumped out to surprise him.

Harry was knocked a step back as he was hit by a brown blur. He felt his ribs being squished as he was wrapped in a hug, and wrapped his arms around his 'assailant'.

"Hermione… Air…"

"Oh! Sorry Harry!" Harry felt the compression on his chest release, and he sucked in air like a starving man.

He looked forwards to see a blushing Hermione looking at him, a shy smile on her face, which Harry thought looked far too cute.

Hermione had also changed some over the summer, her hair was no longer frizzy, being slightly curly, and flowing from her shoulders like a waterfall. Her hair seemed to have a slight shine to it, and Harry swore he could smell peach and lavender in it ' _a new shampoo?_ '.

She wore a pair of tight jeans, with a baby blue jumper and a tiny pair of hoop earrings in her ears. She seemed to have filled out a little over the summer, and looked everything like she would grow into a very beautiful woman.

"Hey Hermione, how are you?" Harry could feel his smile nearly splitting his face. He hadn't been expecting this!

"I'm great Harry! How are you? How did your family treat you? Did you like the food we sent? Have you been doing your homework? What about-"

"Hermione, I'm fine. Great even. The Dursley's were fine. I've finished most of my homework, and the food you sent was fantastic thank you. Now, just take a second, and breathe." Harry said the last with a chuckle, as Hermione's face reddened even more, and her smile widened, showing Harry that she had apparently had her teeth fixed, as they were all now perfectly aligned, the front teeth being the same size as the rest. She had had them fixed after Malfoy cursed them in second year, but they were still a little bit larger than the rest.

"Hey," said Harry "you've had your teeth set!" Hermione's smile widened at this, and to Harry, it seemed to brighten the whole room.

"You noticed! I had them set by a medi-witch – that's the wizarding version of a nurse – do you like them?" Hermione seemed to become shyer as she asked this, and looked down at her feet, which were shuffling slightly.

"They look beautiful Hermione" Hermione's head snapped up to Harry as he said this, and she seemed to positively glow.

"Hello, Harry dear." Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder to see Mrs Weasley and the rest of the Weasleys (excluding Percy) looking at him and Hermione, even Charlie was there, and a man who looked to Harry like Bill (or William). He had long hair, in the traditional Weasley red, that reached to just above his shoulder. In his left ear, he had a small dragon tooth earring, and he had a few small scars on his face, though none as big as Charlie's, who had a rather large scar going down his right cheek. Charlie who also had the long, Weasley hair, but this was tied into a ponytail behind him.

"Hey guys, how are you?"

Harry felt a hand clasp on each of his shoulders, and turned his head to see the Weasley twins grinning at him from either side of him.

"Hello Harry" Fred and George said this simultaneously, something which only they could manage.

"Hey Gred, hey Forge, how are you guys?"

"Oh, we're great Harry"

"Now move along"

"We've got presents to open!"

"To the living room!" The twins said this in their typical, alternating twin speech, with the last said simultaneously.

"Presents… Oh!" Harry realised he'd been so engrossed in his reading this summer, he'd forgotten his birthday had passed a week ago, though it seemed that it didn't matter, as everyone was holding off so he could have it with the Weasleys.

With that said, the twins shot into the living room, cackling as Mrs Weasley grumbled behind them about mischief and explosions.

Harry grabbed Hermione around the waist and steered her into the living room, smiling as he walked in and saw a pile of presents in the centre of the room.

Harry sat turned to wait for the rest of the Weasleys to walk into the room. But moved forwards at the sight of a familiar face.

"Hey Ron, how's your summer been?" Harry smiled again at the sight of his friend, someone who'd also apparently had a growth spurt over the summer, being a good few inches taller than him.

"I've been good Harry, happy birthday by the way" Ron gave a small smile as he said this, and wrapped him in a one arm hug, patting him on the back. Harry noticed his eyes flicker to Hermione, and felt a bit guilty at not noticing him until now.

"Thanks Ron. Now come on, we've got presents to unwrap and food to eat!" At the mention of food, Ron's eyes snapped back to Harry, and a much larger smile graced his face.

"That's a great idea Harry!" He exclaimed, "Come on everyone, there's food coming up!"

Everyone gave a small chuckle at Ron's antics, and soon everyone, bar Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were stood at the doorway, were sat on the living room floor. Harr having Hermione on his right, and Ron on his left.

"So, who goes first?" Harry turned his head a bit to the right, seeing that the noise came from one of the twins.

"Well, Fred, who do you want to go first?"

Fred's eyes widened slightly as Harry distinguished him from his supposedly identical twin. Though this was followed by a wide grin from both him and his partner in crime.

"We'll go first!" Both twins said this in unison, and walked to the pile, picking out a package wrapped in a material Harry didn't recognize. They both grabbed a side and made a great effort in acting as if it weighed a tonne, pulling faces and huffing, eliciting a chuckle from the room.

They placed the package on his lap and clapped him on each shoulder, giving him a smirk and moving back to their place.

Harry opened the package, unfolding the strange material (which felt like a fur of some kind), to find within it a group of scraggly black rocks, about a third of the size of his fist each. They were black in colour, seeming to absorb the, light around them, as if there were simply a void in their place.

Opposite them, were a group of the same rocks, though these were white, with a golden sheen to them. they also seemed to glow, and give off light, and looked to be the opposite of the black rocks.

Harry turned his head up to look at the twins questioningly, clearly unsure of what they were.

"The black ones are Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Quite difficult to import, unless you know how. Throw it in the air and it'll fill the area with black smoke, and disorientate anyone in it." This came from the left-most twin, George.

"The white ones are Bolivian Instant Light Powder, if you're in a dark room, throw at the ground, and it'll create a bright light, illuminating the whole area." This came from the rightmost twin, Fred.

"They're wrapped in Alek fur!"

"They're twenty-foot-tall cats found in South America!"

"They're pretty much big, cuddly versions of black panthers!"

"Except they are way smarter!"

"And don't eat humans!"

"Thanks guys. These are so cool!" Harry could barely take his eyes off them, you could see how magical they were, and see the light coming off the light powder and into the dark powder.

"Me next!" Ron shot forward and pulled a package about the size of Harry's head, wrapped in red wrapping paper, which appeared to have a quaffle flying around it.

Harry ripped open the wrapping to find a broomstick servicing kit, along with a small assortment of sweet.

"Thanks Ron!" Harry said, clapping him on the back.

"I'll go next" this came from Bill, who reached across to the back of a pile to pull out a small, long box, wrapped in a bow.

"Be careful with this, it's not a toy." Harry noticed Bill had raised his voice slightly as he said this, which probably meant he thought it was something Mrs Weasley wouldn't approve of, but couldn't tell him off for now. He untied the bow and opened the box to see a small, flip knife. He pulled it out carefully, flicking the blade out to look at it.

The blade itself was made of a dark purple, and looked extremely sharp and strong to him. The handle was a pale, and smooth. It had five grooves, four on one side, and one on the other side, clearly made as a grip for the holder's fingers and thumb.

"Wow…" Harry held the blade in his hand, he could feel what seemed… magical, in the handle.

"It's obsidian, with a manticore bone handle. The blade flicks out at will, and there's an enchanted Damascus steel holder for it. Be very careful with it, there's nothing I know of that blade can't cut through, and it's enchanted to always be polished, sharpened and unbreakable, and ideally, it's something that you won't feel too much of a need to use. But if worst comes to worst and you're stuck somewhere without a wand, then this could save your life." Harry looked in the box, and saw a small, metal holster, that would fit the knife (when the blade isn't flicked out).

"Thank you, Bill, this is amazing…" Harry's voice trailed off as he looked at it, before snapping the blade into the handle, and placing it into its holster. This he placed into his pocket, with his notebook and pen.

"Are you sure you should be keeping hat in a pocket, dear?" Harry looked up to see Mrs Weasley looking at him with a look of concern.

"It's alright Mrs Weasley, and besides, in the past three years, I've had a possessed teacher, a basilisk, a possessed book and a mass murderer try and kill me, so having something like this is useful to me. Besides, knives have loads of uses. And it's safe in its holster." Harry sad this in as reassuring a manner as possible, and while Mrs Weasley looked reluctant, she didn't pursue the point.

"I'll go next." A small and quiet voice came from opposite Harry, and he saw Ginny reach into the pile to pull out a small, square box, wrapped in the same wrapper as Ron's present.

Ginny shuffled over to him, passing the package with a small smile, and only the faint tint of a blush. That was good, it meant that she was getting over her infatuation with him, which Harry found relieving, it was awkward having her go bright red and run out of whatever room he went in, and he rather liked the girl, she was sweet.

Harry took the package from her, and carefully unwrapped it, opening the small, black box in the wrapping to find a little, gold watch, with a leather strap inside. The background of it showed the weather and date, which were surrounded by an intricate silver and white pattern, as well as the normal hour and second hands up front. Harry had to admit, it was very nice, beautiful even.

"Thank you, Ginny, this is great." Harry said, wrapping it around his left wrist. Ginny's mile burst into a wide grin, and she gave him a quick hug, moving back to her original seat.

"We'll go next dear" Mrs Weasley's voice came next, as Mr Weasley pulled out a package, wrapped in marron wrapping paper, which he passed to Harry with a kind smile.

Harry tore open the wrapper, finding a box of various sweets, pastries and cakes, as well as a small package set to the side. This was wrapped in a thick woolly material. Harry carefully unwrapped this, to find a framed picture of Mr and Mrs Weasley, and two babies, one with a small tuft of ginger hair, and the other with a full head of black hair. In the picture, Bill and Charlie (both around eleven and nine respectively) laughing at what could only be the three-year-old Weasley twins playing with the babies, who appeared to be Harry and Ron. Mrs Weasley was sat next to Mr Weasley, holding a small bundle that appeared to be Ginny, who couldn't have been much more than a month old. Percy was sitting on Mr Weasley's lap, reading a book, though a small smirk was on his face, and he kept glancing at the other children. He occasionally bounced in Mr Weasley's lap as he chuckled. Behind them all… was his parents. Lily and James Potter stood behind the chairs, a small smile on Lily's face, while James laughed uproariously.

"It was taken in mid-October, about a week before… _it_ happened. We had occasional playdates, and Lily wasn't going to let something as small as a dark lord stop you from seeing your friends. You had a few with Neville and a few others as well. The Hogwarts express was pushed back a month, so Bill wasn't at Hogwarts yet. That was the only time we were all together, including Ginny.

Harry felt his eyes tear up slightly, only managing a small "thank you."

Mrs Weasley pulled him into a tight hug, as Harry sat there, staring at the picture.

Eventually, she let go, and Harry carefully wrapped the picture in the material it came in, setting it back with the other gifts.

"I'll go next." Hermione's voice was soft, and Harry felt her move to pick up a package of a similar shape to Bill's present, except slightly wider.

She passed it to him, giving him a light kiss on the cheek, eliciting a pair of loud wolf whistles from the twins, and though nobody noticed, a frown and quick glare at Harry from Ron.

"Happy Birthday." Her voice was quiet, and a small smile covered her lips, which Harry returned.

Harry opened the package, which was wrapped in silver wrapping paper, with a gold bow, finding a black box inside. Opening the box, he found the inside padded, with a silver necklace inside. At the bottom of the necklace, was a small stag.

Harry pulled the necklace out of the box, holding the stag up. It was extremely intricate, with him able to distinguish a fur pattern across it.

"Thank you, Hermione" Harry pulled Hermione into his side, holding her in a one-arm hug.

He released her after a few seconds, puling the necklace over his neck, and tucking it into his shirt.

"And I'm last." Harry looked to his left to see Charlie passing a package over to him. The wrapping paper was a sparkling blue, with a golden snitch whizzing around it. As he passed it to Harry, he whispered to him,

"I've got you something else, I can't give it to you here, 'cause mum would go mental, but it'll be on your bed." Only Harry seemed to hear him, which Harry though was probably for the best.

The wrapping looked expensive to Harry (in terms of wrapping paper), but then again, working with dragons probably paid well.

Harry unwrapped the package to find dragon scale, about half the length of his hand, in a frame. Underneath it, was a small panel of gold, which had the words, 'Norberta, age 2' inscribed upon it.

Harry looked at the scale with a smirk, and allowed his mind a minute to trail back to first year, when he, Hermione and Ron took Norbert the dragon to Charlie, to smuggle out of the castle.

"Thanks, Charlie. That brings back some memories. How is he, by the way?"

"He's doing great, Harry. I'm trying to organise to get Hagrid to see him, if you want, I could get some pictures of them for you."

"That would be great, thanks." Harry looked to the centre of the room to see three presents left. Charlie passed a small package wrapped in brown wrapping paper to Harry."

This ones from Percy, he couldn't be here, as he's working tonight, he's got a lot to do, what with the Quidditch world cup at the moment.

"That's fine, I'll make sure to thank him when I next see him." Harry unwrapped the package as he said this, finding a stationary kit. Harry may not have appreciated this last year, but having spent his summer working, he was far happier to have this, even if he used pens, sometimes quills and ink were required. And he always needed parchment. Besides, the ink could be used to refill his pens.

Harry reached forwards, plucking a package wrapped in slightly grubby wrapping paper from the ground, opening it to find some rock cakes, as well as something that looked to be made of fudge.

Inside the package was a note scrawled in messy handwriting:

 _Happy Birthday Harry!_

 _Hopefully this gets to you with the Weasleys, I've made you some more rock cakes, and I've started making some other treats, the other cakes are something Dumbledore showed me, something called,_ _ **Fudge cakes**_ _, hopefully they taste great._

 _Happy Birthday again, feel free to see me when you get to Hogwarts._

 _Love,_

 _Hagrid._

Harry put the note back down with a smile, he always liked Hagrid, he may have a bit of a problem with 'misunderstood' creatures, but he had a heart of gold. He was slightly surprised at how well he spelled everything, but, then again, Hagrid always seemed a bit smarter than people realized.

Finally, Harry reached across to pick up the final package. This was wrapped in a wrapping paper that seemed to change colour, every angle causing it to look like a completely different colour.

He carefully unwrapped the package to find a sneacoscope inside. Harry turned it over to find the base inscribed with 'Property of Harry Potter. Happy Birthday Harry, from Dumbledore'.

Harry smiled as he placed it back with the rest of the gifts.

"Right then, everyone! Time for food!" This came from Mrs Weasley, and she'd barely finished the sentence before Ron had shot back into the kitchen, causing a bark of laughter from Harry and the twins, a giggle from Hermione, and a fond sigh from the rest.

"We'll place all your presents in your room tomorrow, after breakfast, but for now, we can should get some food and rest." This came from Mr Weasley, and Harry couldn't help but agree. Hauling himself up off the ground, and offering his hand down to Hermione, who took it with a smile, allowing Harry to pull her up lightly.

Harry walked with her to the kitchen, seeing it already set.

Harry sat next to Ron, this time him on his right, and Hermione on his left. He took in the scene with a large smile on his face, him sat with Hermione and the Weasleys, on his birthday. Harry jumped in his seat as everyone started singing.

"Happy Birthday to…" Harry looked over to his left, seeing Mrs Weasley walk over to him, carrying a large cake, covered in red icing, and fourteen candles on top.

As everyone finished singing, and Harry blew out the candles, he couldn't help but think that this was shaping up to be the best birthday of his life.

* * *

Harry walked into Ron's bedroom, dropping his trunk on the ground. He looked round the room, seeing a second bed set up opposite Ron's. He walked up to it, seeing a square bump under the duvet. He lifted the duvet up to see a square package, wrapped in a non-descript brown paper, along with a note simply signed ' _Charlie_ '. He turned to see that Ron wasn't in the room, presumably to go to the toilet, and turned back round, tearing off the wrapping paper to find around fifteen magazines, each full of moving wizards, titled ' _ **Playwizard**_ '. Harry turned bright red as he flicked through the first, finding a number of women, or a man and woman, or even man and women, performing various… acts. Harry simply stared at the magazine for a second, before regaining his senses and putting the magazines in his trunk. He would rather face another hundred dementors than have anyone in the burrow know he had these, apart from Charlie, obviously, who he made a mental note to thank, even if he'd probably have to wait until he got to Hogwarts, with the four poster bed curtains, before he could get the magazines out again.

Harry shut his trunk and slid it under his bed, before stripping to his boxers and dropping into it, sighing as he covered himself and laid his head on the pillow. He muttered a "Goodnight" to Ron as he stared at the ceiling, falling asleep to the banging of the Burrow's attic ghoul.

And everything faded to black.

* * *

 **A/N Aaaaaand I'm back! This is a bit longer than the other chapters, which is why I'm leaving the quidditch world cup until the next chapter. For those wondering, I don't currently have any plans for a Harmony relationship, but if it did, it would be very late in the story.**

 **In relation to the Drakons and Aleks, these are pretty much just background information, unless I decide to do something with them at a later date, I just prefer the Idea that the wizarding world is made up of around half the number of species as the muggle world, with a much larger magical world than we currently see (In a similar manner to '** _ **A Second Chance at Life**_ **' [Which is phenomenal btw, I genuinely can't recommend it enough. It's genuinely fucking amazing.] except not necessarily all explained, e.g. some stuff will be left to the imagination).**

 **Well, thanks for reading, I'll see you all next time!**

 **Adios!**


	8. Chapter 8: The Quidditch Cup

Chapter 8

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Harry Potter (You don't say…) warnings for language, violence, and possibly some other stuff down the line (new warnings will appear at the top of their respective pages). Got it? Awesome. Let's begin.**

* * *

Harry woke to the sound of fluttering wings above him. He opened his eyes to see a white shape floating above him.

"Hello, Hedwig." Harry mumbled, yawning as he forced himself to sit up, allowing Hedwig to perch herself on his shoulder. "How've you been?"

Hedwig rubbed her head against Harry's, and nipped him lightly on the ear (her way of showing him affection) which Harry took to mean she was fine.

Hauling himself out of bed, Harry looked out the window, seeing that the sun was less than halfway up, meaning it had only been up for about two hours. Harry turned to see Ron still fast asleep, snoring soundly. He let out a small chuckle. Well, some things never change…

Harry pulled his trunk out from its spot in the corner, opening it up and methodically pulling out his clothes for the day. A simple pair of black jeans, a dark red, long sleeved top, and the Drakon cloak.

He looked out the window, seeing the sun barely skimming the horizon, causing flare of orange to coat the sky, clashing with the clouds and sky. Though it was early, it looked to Harry like the day was set to be beautiful. Warm, but not hot, with just enough clouds to stop the sun being incessantly in his face. Wonderful.

Harry opened the door, taking care not to make too much noise – not that it would exactly disturb Ron if he did – and stepped into the slightly cramped hallway. He made his way down the stairs, arriving to see Hermione already dressed and curled up on an armchair with a tomb resting in her arms, and Bill sat opposite her, hunched slightly over what looked to be a copy of the daily prophet, another newspaper beside him in a language Harry couldn't understand, though he could see a group of goblins on the front page.

"Morning" Harry mumbled, getting a gruff "morning" from Bill and a small sound of acknowledgement from Hermione – impressive considering she usually blanked anyone who interrupted her reading, even for the briefest moment.

Harry dropped himself onto one of the chairs between the two, letting out a slight sigh closing his eyes. The journey from the bedroom was short, but he missed his bed already god-damnit!

The three remained in their positions for a while, the silence only interrupted by Bill or Hermione occasionally turning a page – Hermione far more often than bill truth-be-told – Harry enjoying the moment.

"Stop that." Harry cracked an eye open to see Hermione looking at him with a slight frown, tomb still in hand.

"Stop what?" Harry asked, looking at her inquisitively.

"Rubbing your knuckles," she said, "I can see it from here, and it's distracting."

"How is it distracting? You're looking at your book. You can't look in two places at once."

"Just because I'm reading doesn't mean I'm not aware of my surroundings, so yes I can see it. So, stop."

"Can't you just hold your book slightly higher? It's not like I'm making any noise…"

The two-continued bickering for a while, neither noticing Bill fold up his newspaper and place it aside, nor Ginny's arrival. Eventually, however, they were interrupted by the sound of a deep chuckle and a light giggle coming from the other two.

Harry and Hermione turned to see Bill and Ginny looking at them with looks of amusement.

"Care to tell us what's so funny?" Hermione demanded, fixing Bill and Ginny with a stare that only served to further amuse the pair.

"You two, you sound like an old married couple" Bill said, causing Ginny to burst out with a wheeze of laughter, and Harry and Hermione's jaws to drop. The two looked at each other, quickly reddening, before very quickly staring in the opposite direction, they'd be damned before THAT happened!

The two soon fell returned to their normal positions however (once Ginny had stopped laughing that is), and the discussion turned to what Bill had read in the paper, with Ginny and Harry occasionally stopping Bill to ask questions, whilst Hermione returned to reading, though she was likely listening in to their conversation as well.

Time passed quickly, with more Weasley's arriving and finding their places, Ron finding a spot in the corner, Charlie sitting on the floor beside the previously unlit fireplace, Mr and Mrs Weasley disappearing to make food and arrangements for the trip, and the twins perched on the hand rests of Bill's chair, seemingly taking some amusement in squishing their brother between them, what with the three being clearly too big for the chair.

Eventually, the group was called into the dining room for breakfast, though breakfast may not be the correct term, 'feast' may be more appropriate considering the veritable sea of food placed on the table. How Mrs Weasley did it, Harry would never be sure, though she probably learned over the years, what with Ron's black hole of a stomach, as well as the rest of the Weasley's, who, though not excessive eaters like Ron, did have healthy appetites.

Harry sat at the table, between Ginny and George (Harry took great part in being able to tell the two apart, though he wasn't fully sure how he managed it), and the table soon became filled with the sounds of cutlery meeting plates, food being cut, and various conversations. Harry finished his food first, his appetite being the smallest of the lot, and looked around the room. He soon found himself smiling, enjoying the atmosphere. Ramped though it may be, there was a homeliness to the Weasley household that Harry would never truly grow tired of.

* * *

CRACK! Harry stumbled as he landed on top of the hill, having been side along apparated by Charlie, along with Ron. Another 'crack' sounded behind him, and he turned his head to see Bill arrive with the twins, only to get a splat of paint in his face – A Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product – followed by Mr Weasley arriving with Ron and Hermione.

"For fucks sake you two! I swear if you keep doing this I will tell Mum!" Bill roared, only to be drowned out by the Weasley twins gasping laughter, though the two did seem to go slightly pale at the suggestion.

"But Bill," Fred sounded, "who would you have to take Mum's attention off your earing if we aren't here?!"

Bill himself paled dramatically at that thought, Mrs Weasley had not been best pleased when she saw Bill's fang earring. She wasn't exactly happy with his long hair beforehand, but now she was positively livid.

"Fine." Bill snapped, though a small smirk did appear on his face when the two pulled out a small mirror to show him his face, which was now alternating between various neon colours.

The scene was interrupted by another crack of apparition, and Harry turned to see a who appeared to be in his late forties arrive with a young man Harry half recognised from Hogwarts.

"Amos! Cedric!" Mr Weasley greeted, clasping the elder man's hand, followed by the younger man's. He turned back to the group. "Everyone! This is Amos-" he pointed at the elder "and Cedric Diggory!" he pointed at the younger. A cluster of greetings came from the group, as Arthur explained that they had agreed to share a portkey (apparating to the site was not allowed for security reasons), and that Cedric was a seventh year Hufflepuff, and that Amos worked in…

Harry tuned out at this point, instead looking at the view of the area surrounding the hill. A sea of green in every direction, interrupted only by the occasional old oak tree, or cluster of flowers. It was a beautiful place, Harry had to admit.

Eventually, Harry noticed the group move towards something, and so tuned back into the conversation, not wanting to be left behind.

"Right!" Mr Weasley said, "Everyone grab the boot! And do not let go, no matter what! And please, Fred, George, no pranks, I'd rather not explain to your mother that we ended up in Portugal because you wanted to mess around while we use a portkey!" The twins simply smirked, though they seemed to take on board what their father said, and grasped the boot. Harry followed suit, having read what a portkey was in one of the books given by Sirius, and if It was anything like how it was described, he's rather get it over and done with. And done correctly for that matter. After all, Mr Weasley wasn't joking when he mentioned how badly wrong a portkey can go if used incorrectly.

Everyone reached for the portkey – a large, brown boot – and, after a small pause, the group disappeared.

* * *

Harry felt his knees give way as he landed, followed by them hitting the hard dirt beneath him. He groaned as he heaved himself up, looking around to see Hermione, Ginny and Ron in a similar state to him, with the rest looking only slightly frazzled by the portkey ride.

"Why is magical transport always so crappy...?" Harry mumbled to himself, taking a moment to help Hermione up, before making his way to the rest of the group. He looked off into the distance to see an enormous stadium sitting a few miles away, surrounded by thousands of tents, varying in colour and style, but all, oddly enough, the same size.

Harry stared out at the scene, dazed. It was amazing! Flocks of people in cloaks, capes, and other types of magical clothing, small fires littered the area, and flags of various nations (with Bulgaria and Ireland being by far the most common) were everywhere.

"Right! Let's get moving!" Mr Weasley's voice shifted Harry out of his daze, and the group made their way towards the campsite.

"Wow…" Harry stared in awe as he entered the tent. What had first appeared to be a small, green tent turned out to be something more akin to a small bungalow. The tent was expanded on the inside to open into numerous segments, all squares with about ten meters in length and width. The tent was split into 3 areas, living; which consisted of a living room – fireplace and all –, a kitchen (with running water) and an en-suite bedroom for Mr Weasley; the girls sleeping area, which consisted of a room for Ginny and Hermione to sleep in, and a bathroom; and a boy's sleeping section, which consisted of three bedrooms; one for Harry and Ron, one for the twins, and one for Bill and Charlie, as well as another bedroom.

"Is this not expensive?" Harry turned to see the question had come from Ginny, who had gotten in before him (Harry having come in last, taking time to let Hedwig fly down, greet him and set off again).

"Between a Gringotts curse-breaker-"

"-and a dragon tamer in Romania-"

"I think we've got this covered." The voices were those of the twins, with the last line being said in unison.

Harry allowed a small smirk at the annoyed expression Hermione, Ginny, Bill and Charlie gave the twins, the first two because of the twin speak, and the latter two due to having their apparently well-paid jobs thrust into the spotlight.

"At least we can tell Mum what our jobs are without her throwing a fit" Charlie said

"That's only because-"

"-she already did that-"

"-the first four times!" the twins said, though their smirks did lessen slightly at the thought of their mother finding out about their business idea. It was bad enough when she found out what their OWL grades were, and they'd rather not erupt Mt. Molly for at least another year.

The group was interrupted as Mr Weasley walked in from the kitchen.

"Well, everything appears to be in order," he said, "feel free to go out and explore for a while, the game doesn't start for another few hours, and I'll be here making the food, just make sure you get back before people start drinking, I don't another Firewhiskey incident, Merlin knows once was enough…" He said the last sentence with a pointed look at Bill and Charlie, though a small, fond smile did grace his face.

"That's okay, I'll probably stay here anyways, I've got some paperwork to go through." Bill said.

"I'll stay as well, actually, I can help with the food." Charlie said.

"Right! That's great! Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, stick with at least one other person, this campsite is huge, and easy to get lost in. Molly already gave you two money to take, and Harry and Hermione have their own. Now, I think that's everything. Have fun you four. And don't waste all the money in one place." With that, Mr Weasley headed into the kitchen, followed closely by Charlie, Bill having already gone to his room to work, while the twins sneaked out as their father spoke to the other four.

* * *

"I can't believe it!" Ron yelled "Krum got the snitch, and they still lost!"

The Weasley's, Harry and Hermione had just returned to their tent following the match, and the group was in uproar. Well, all the group except Hermione, of course. She had been _far_ too engrossed in her book to worry about anything so boring as quidditch!

"Why though?" Asked Ginny "Shouldn't he have left it until Bulgaria scored enough points to win the game?"

"They'd already lost." Harry said "the gap was only getting bigger, it was just a matter of how much Bulgaria lost by. Krum chose that moment because it made it so that Ireland only on by ten points, and so the team could rest. No use carrying on if you're only going to lose by more and more." As Harry said this, Ginny and Ron nodded along, Ginny in understanding; and Ron in agreement.

"I still can't believe how you two acted in front of those veela. It was beyond embarrassing." Hermione said, looking at Harry and Ron with raised eyebrows.

"It's not our fault they turned their allure onto full blast. Besides, we were hardly the worst. Ginny practically jumped out of the box." Harry said.

Hermione simply made a 'tsk' noise, though her eyes did quickly flick to Ginny inquisitively, who had reddened dramatically at the memory.

The group chattered for a while, the rest of the Weasley's having gone off to do their own things when the quadruplet reached the tent. If Harry remembered correctly, Bill and Charlie had seen a group of dwarves celebrating and decided to join in, the twins had gone off to find someone about a bet they'd made (which Harry SWORE he'd never tell their mother about) and Mr Weasley had gone in search of some colleagues from work.

A few hours passed, and the group slowly fell asleep in the armchairs. Mr Weasley returned to find the twins talking quietly opposite the group, sniggering. Though there didn't seem to be any problems, and they had seemingly gotten some blankets rom the bedrooms for them. Nevertheless, all was good.

* * *

"Harry! HARRY! Wake up!" Harry opened his eyes, snapping upright in the chair. He looked up to see Fred shaking moving to shake Ron, while George woke up Hermione and Ginny.

"Guys? What's up?" Ginny said, looking at the pair, dazed.

"Screams." Harry said, "Outside, what's happening?!"

"A group in death eater cloaks are attacking. Grab your wands and a cloak, we need to leave." The voice was Mr Weasley's though his usual jovial tone was missing, replaced instead with seriousness that put Harry on edge.

Though he'd just woken up, the smell of burning and intense sense of fear gave Harry a clarity he hadn't felt in months. Leaping from his chair and running to his room, Harry grabbed his wand and Drakon cloak, as well as Ron's wand and cloak, before running back into the living room.

The whole group was there… except Charlie.

"Where's Charlie?" Harry asked.

"Shit! He stayed with the dwarves. They were right near the death eaters!" Bill said, a look of worry etched onto his face.

"I'll find your brother! You stay with these lot and take them to the woods!" Mr Weasley said, barking out "I'll be fine. Now, go!" as Bill opened his mouth to protest. And with that, Mr Weasley left the tent.

There was a moment, a microsecond, of silence in the tent, the only sounds being their breathing and the sounds coming from outside.

"Guys!" Bill said, grabbing everyone's attention, "we're going to the forest, directly left from the entrance of the tent. All of you stick with me! If worst comes to worst and I can't follow, or we have to split up, Fred goes with Hermione and Ginny, and George goes with Harry and Ron. Now, we're going!"

And with that, they descended into the chaos.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the tent, immediately bringing the collar of his cloak to his face to mask it from the overpowering smoke. He felt a slight push, and moved forward to allow George and Bill out.

"We're moving! NOW!" Bill yelled, and the group took off towards the woods.

Harry ran, keeping pace with Bill, who'd had made his way to the front to leading the group. The air was filled with smoke, ashes and _fear_. There was a cacophony of noise; screams, blazing fires and the occasional mad cackle from within between he tents. He tripped on a branch, falling to the ground. He felt an arm grab him by the shoulder and hoist him up, looking around to see George lifting him. The rest of the group was slightly ahead, just nearing the forest, with Bill at the front yelling at them to hurry up. His feet scrambled beneath him on the dirt, and he pushed forward, holding on to George as best he could.

"C'mon Harry, we're nearly-"

BANG!

Harry was flung to his left by a sudden explosion, flying straight into a tent. And the world faded to black.

* * *

"Argh what the hell…" Harry shoved the remains of a formerly magical tent from above him, staring around to see that he'd only been out for a few minutes.

He stumbled to his feet, pulling out his wand, and allowed his cloak's hood to materialise over his head, the charms placed upon it hiding his face in shadow.

Harry took a few seconds to regain his balance – It having been offset by the explosion – and take a few deep breaths. Then, he surged forward, heading towards the crater to search for George, hoping to god that he hadn't been flung as bad as him.

"Well what do we have here…?" the voice came from Harry's right, and he whipped round, pointing his wand at the voice.

The voice belonged to a tall man. His face was concealed by a charm, and his voice was slightly distorted, but Harry could tell, somehow, that it was a man.

"You shouldn't be here. That blast should have at least knocked you out for hours, being this close…" The man seemed slightly intrigued, and Harry froze. How did he know it was him...?

"Then again, it should have killed that Potter brat, but he isn't where he landed, so I guess I just underpowered it, let's try again!" Harry relaxed internally as he realised that the man didn't actually know who he was, though he stayed concentrated on the man, who's wand-tip was beginning to glow orange.

The man suddenly twisted to his left, flinging up a shield to block a red spell aimed for his torso.

Harry's glanced to his right to see Charlie, face half-covered in drying blood, left sleeve half burned off and front covered in what appeared to be a mix of numerous different alcohols.

"OY! Stay away from him you cunt! You wanna fight someone? C'mon then! I'll fucking break you, you jacked up little shit!" Charlie screamed, flinging more spells at the man.

Harry threw himself behind one of the upright tents, occasionally peeking around the side to see Charlie flinging more spells at then man.

"NO! You will not stop me!" the man screamed, unleashing a shockwave around him causing Charlie to stumble and stop his spell fire, and the spells he'd already fired towards the man to dissipate into the air.

Harry's eyes widened as the man's wand tip flared with orange, burning energy, encircling the first two inches of his wand like a vortex, before he screamed.

"BURN!"

A flurry of flames, easily 7 feet in diameter fired from the man's wand at Charlie, covering the ten meters between them, and another ten behind Charlie, in a blaze of orange and white fire.

"NO!" Harry screamed, as Charlie was completely encompassed by the blaze, yet Harry could go no closer, as the heat from the bombardment began to crisp and burn his skin, even from the twenty meters away Harry was. He could only stare in horror as Charlie was consumed by the chaotic mass of heat energy.

The blaze lasted for what seemed like forever – it only lasted 20 seconds in reality, though that was more than enough time for the blaze to annihilate everything within five feet of the flames, and send a painful heat and ash far further than that – eventually though, the flames died down, and Harry and the man stared at the quickly dissipating flames. It was an amazing piece of magic, powerful and extreme to a degree rarely seen. Not that Harry noticed…

No. Harry could _feel_ the man's joy… and pride! Rage built up in Harry as he looked at the flames, yet that rage was annihilated as the flames disappeared, and his jaw dropped.

Charlie stood where the flames had previously been, completely unharmed, the only sign of the previous inferno being a few slight streams of smoke coming off of various parts of his body, and his now frenzied hair, flicking in different directions around him.

"Are you serious? I WORK WITH DRAGONS! It'll take more than that shite flicker of flame to take me take me down! I am Charlie fucking Weasley! I give up when the bloody sun implodes!" Charlie's face was a look of pure fury, as if having his favourite element used against him was personally insulting. And with that, he flung a hail of multicoloured spells at the man, nasty things normally reserved for taking down the strongest dragons during a rampage, when they were even stronger.

The man moved; running, jumping and spinning to avoid the veritable rain of spells coming towards him, and though Charlie's spell-casting was impressive, the man got nearer and nearer to him. After a few minutes, he got directly in front of Charlie, grabbing his wand and pulling it to the side, offsetting Charlie and yet again stopping his spell fire. His wand tip glowed a sickly green. The killing curse.

Harry slammed into the man's side, jamming the knife bill gave him into the man's right shoulder, and the two rolled to the floor. Harry pushed himself on top of the man, pulling the knife out of his shoulder and sticking it into his side, before pulling it out again to strike a final blow, only for the man to twist and blast him away with a pulse of energy from his wand.

Harry landed four feet away, scrambling to his feet. The man was stuck, with Charlie to his left and Harry to his right.

"Damn…" a slight chuckle emanated from the man, his distorted voice flickering in different tones, showing that whatever spell was changing it was failing, even as the one placed upon his face started to flicker.

However, he thrust his wand into the air, yelling "Morsmordre!" before disappearing with a _**crack**_ , a spell from Charlie passing through where his body was moments before.

"Fuck! We nearly had the little bitch!" Charlie yelled, voicing his frustration at the man's escape. Harry's attention, however, was caught by the giant green shape in the sky. An image of a skull, with a serpent coming out of its mouth and partially coiling beneath it, hovered ominously in the black night sky, concealing the stars behind it.

"What is that…?" Harry asked, panting.

Charlie looked up to see what Harry was looking t, paling dramatically as he realized what it was.

"The dark mark… The sign of he-who-must-not-be-named. Wha-? Who the fuck was that guy?" Charlie's voice was far quieter now, barely audible over the ringing in Harry's ears, which he only now began to notice.

Harry and Charlie stared in silence, looking at the sky.

"Uh, thanks for that, Harry, by the way. Bastard nearly got me there…" Charlie said, Harry looked to see him facing him.

"Don't worry about it, you'd have done the same." Harry mumbled, before realizing that he still had his cloak hood up, face shadowing charm included. He let the hood dematerialize, the charm going with it.

"How-?"

"Harry, that's a Drakon hide cloak. Everyone else may be blind to it. I mean, it's obvious that it's expensive, probably belonging to the Potter family, or a family related to it, but just 'cause everyone else is blind to it doesn't mean I can't tell what it is." Charlie said, a small smile on his face.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, questioning how he knew what Drakon hide looked like. He may work with dragons, but nearly everyone who worked with dragons had little to no knowledge of Drakons, short of they were a bigger, more powerful and smarter version of dragons. And even then, most people didn't know the extent of those things.

"What? You didn't think I'd restrict myself to dragons, did you? They're great and all, but Drakons are where it's really at. Besides, only a true veteran dragon hunter would be able to withstand that flame like I did. No. Drakons are way cooler, and you get to learn so much more when dealing with them."

"How'd you start working with them? I thought they didn't hire people to work with them until you were at least fifty."

"That's usually the case, yes. But apparently one of the current higher-ups saw something in me. Took me on as his apprentice."

"Really? Good for you mate. I see why. That fire thing was really freakin' impressive."

"Thanks. I do try." Charlie had a small smirk on his face, and Harry could sense a hint of pride. Not that Charlie didn't deserve it. He did well, better than most would've in the situation, even if he was a bit brash. Not that Harry could talk about brashness. Basilisk anyone?

Harry slid the knife ack into the holster within his cloak. Hopefully he wouldn't need it again. Well, tonight at least.

The two eventually started wandering, looking for anyone among the burning tents. The far sounds of spell fire had stopped following the advent of the dark mark. And aside from the burning tents everywhere, and the occasional small animal scurrying across the ground, there was silence.

The two had only gone twenty meters before Charlie spoke up again.

"Where the fuck is dad? I got separated from him and the dwarves a few minutes before I found you. He shouldn't be far, not unless the death eaters ran towar-"

Charlie's voice was interrupted by a man's voice.

"Stupefy!" Yet again, Harry was flung aside, his only thought as the world turned to black being, 'Ohhh, what the hell…'

* * *

"And you're sure there's nothing we can find out about this man?" Dumbledore said, turning to the official looking man next to him.

"No." Said Barty, "There was some blood on the ground from where the Potter boy got him. But it was mixed with a potion. It was likely ingested in case he did lose some, so we can't identify him. Damn Bastard…"

"Language Mr Crouch. You may not be a student of mine anymore, but I still hold the right to chastise you. You did stun Mr Potter after all."

Barty let out a small grunt, turning to look at Harry, who was sat with Bill, a few Healers, and a duo from the department of mysteries. That was a showdown in and of itself. The two cloaked figures arguing with the healers, both adamant that they needed to see them first eventually Crouch himself had to go and tell the agents to let the healers do their job. Though he wasn't a member at any point himself. He'd always had good relations with them when he worked in the ministry, and a begrudging level of respect had been built up by both sides.

"Curious, is it not? That Mr Potter was so close to the assailant's maelstrom, yet he appears to have suffered no burn wounds." Dumbledore said, stroking his beard inquisitively.

"Bah! Accidental magic, Dumbledore. It's somewhat rare for his age, but he had seemingly just seen his friend's brother annihilated. And he's hardly one for the rules anyway, is he? That blasted killing curse was only the beginning…"

Dumbledore merely hummed along, looking at Harry, a small smile on his face as he saw him a few decibels off yelling at both the healers and Department agents, gesticulating furiously as he tried to get them both to leave him. After all, he was "fine" and "couldn't say a damn thing about who the guy was. His face and voice were distorted!". Clearly, Harry's days of adventure were far from over. Hopefully the 'event' would go well though, he hardly needed an incident on such an international scale. The last three years were enough of a PR nightmare…

 **A/N Sooooo…. I did another one. Sorry about the wait, but my laptop broke, then I went away for a week, then I remembered I was really lazy and liked my PS4 a bit too much. Anyways, I got the Quidditch cup done, and for those wondering, I didn't do much on the cup itself, because, to be honest, I probably couldn't do it justice, so if you're looking for a great Quidditch cup chapter, read the book, or just google another fanfic, fuck knows there'll be something out there.**

 **I did get a bit of action-y stuff in though! Hopefully you liked it, especially you mckertis, 'cause, y'know… "when does the interesting bit start?"**

 **In relation to differences between Rowling's Quidditch world cup, it's a fanfiction, of course it's different. If it wasn't AU, then it would just be the book.**

 **As for the man who attacked Charlie and Harry, if you can't tell who it is, well… It isn't exactly gonna be a big surprise (It's in the real book).**

 **Well, I'm done rambling. Thanks for reading, reviews are great n all.  
'Till next we meet.**

 **Cheers,**

 **M.**


	9. Chapter 9

I guess it's been a while.

This is going to be an **update chapter** to let you all know what's happening, because I felt I owe it to the people who've followed/favourited the story, as well as any passers-by who are wondering why I left it so long to update.

Simply put, I hope to update this again within two months, I've got exams at the moment, as well as work, and I'll have to learn to drive soon, but that's not really relevant to the story.

It's been a year and a bit since I last touched this story, and a lot has changed. Long story short, I'm a different person in a lot of ways, and a lot of ways I'm the same. Looking back on this story, I still want to continue it, and I'm quite fond of the premise, as well as some of the ideas within it. However, some of the prior chapters need work. Clearly, I don't have a problem with foul language, but I felt I overused it, and didn't integrate it as naturally as I should have. I was also slipping into a trope or two which I look to avoid this time around.

Main change though: I need to put in more effort, especially with world building. When I started this story, I had a brief outline of the story, along with some very specific scenes in mind to fit into it. But this isn't enough to write a story. Such as is the case with the Drakon ad Dwarves. I added them, then went to add details to them, rather than the other way around. Some details I'm happy with (Chapter 1 as a whole is one of my favourite descriptive pieces I've done, and I think I characterised most of the characters how I wanted to – Mr Weasley in particular is one I'm pretty proud of), but there are things that need work. Such as the chapter with Wormtail & Voldemort. While I was happy with the description from the book, literally copying it was just… so goddamn lazy. Even if I write something to the same effect, it was a missed opportunity for some mood-setting, and bordering on plagiarism. And the whole magazine thing with Sirius, that was a mistake.

I don't mean to shit on the opinions of people who liked these things, I just feel that I've matured a bit since I was last here, and with any artist (god I sound pretentious) examining their elder work, I see how it could be improved.

So, tl;dr I'm going to rewrite what I've done so far (not entirely, just changing what I feel I should do), and properly plan what is to come. Hopefully you all hear from me within two months (three if something changes – which it shouldn't do).

Happy reading,

M.


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